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THE    ROSARY 


THE  ROSARY 

BY 

FLORENCE  L.  BARCLAY 

AUTHOR  OF 
THE  MISTRESS  OF  SHENSTONE,  ETC. 


GROSSET   &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  ::  ::  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1910 

BY 

FLORENCE    L.  BARCLAY 


By  Florence  L.  Barclay 

The  Rosary  The  Following  of  the  Star 

The  Mistress  of  Shenstone  The  Broken  Halo 

Through  the  Postern  Gate  The  Wall  of  Partition 

The  Upas  Tree  My  Heart's  Right  There 


This  edition  is  issued  under  arrangement  with  the  publishers 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  New  York  and  London 


TCbe  IRnfcfeerbocfter  press,  IRew  UJorft 


Go 

ANGELA 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER                                                                                                                                                 PAGB 

I    Enter — the  Duchess     .....         i 

II    Introduces  the  Honourable  Jane 

6 

III    The  Surprise  Packet    .... 

12 

IV    Jane  Volunteers 

19 

V    Confidences.         .... 

32 

VI    The  Veil  is  Lifted 

49 

VII    Garth  Finds  his  Rosary 

57 

VIII    Added  Pearls        .... 

66 

IX    Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party 

7i 

X    The  Revelation    .... 

> 

• 

91 

XI    Garth  Finds  the  Cross 

> 

in 

XII    The  Doctor's  Prescription   . 

119 

XIII    The  Answer  of  the  Sphinx   . 

.     133 

XIV    In  Deryck's  Safe  Control    . 

* 

.     139 

XV    The  Consultation 

.     146 

XVI    The  Doctor  Finds  a  Way 

172 

XVII    Enter — Nurse  Rosemary 

.     176 

XVIII    The  Napoleon  of  the  Moors 

.     181 

XIX    The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  . 

.     190 

XX    Jane  Reports  Progress 

.     203 

XXI    Hard  on  the  Secretary 

.     212 

XXII    Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue 

.     220 

XXIII    The  Only  Way      . 

.     231 

XXIV    The  Man's  Point  of  View      . 

•     243 

XXV    The  Doctor's  Diagnosis 

.     258 

VI 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XXVI  Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land    . 

XXVII  The  Eyes  Garth  Trusted      . 

XXVIII  In  the  Studio         .... 

XXIX  Jane  Looks  into  Love's  Mirror     . 

XXX  "The  Lady  Portrayed" 

XXXI  In  Lighter  Vein    .... 

XXXII  An 'Interlude        .... 

XXXIII  ' '  Something  is  Going  to  Happen  ! " 

XXXIV  "Love  Never  Faileth" 

XXXV  Nurse  Rosemary  Has  her  Reward 

XXXVI  The  Revelation  of  the  Rosary     . 

XXXVII  "In  the  Face  of  this  Congregation" 

XXXVIII  Perpetual  Light  .... 


PAGE 
269 

280 

288 

291 

298 

303 
3IO 

313 
325 

335 
344 
350 
359 


THE    ROSARY 


THE  ROSARY 


CHAPTER  I 

ENTER — THE   DUCHESS 

THE  peaceful  stillness  of  an  English  summer  after- 
noon brooded  over  the  park  and  gardens  at 
Overdene.  A  hush  of  moving  sunlight  and  lengthening 
shadows  lay  upon  the  lawn,  and  a  promise  of  refreshing 
coolness  made  the  shade  of  the  great  cedar  tree  a  place 
to  be  desired. 

The  old  stone  house,  solid,  substantial,  and  unadorned, 
suggested  unlimited  spaciousness  and  comfort  within; 
and  was  redeemed  from  positive  ugliness  without,  by  the 
fine  ivy,  magnolia  trees,  and  wistaria,  of  many  years' 
growth,  climbing  its  plain  face,  and  now  covering  it 
with  a  mantle  of  soft  green,  large  white  blooms,  and  a 
cascade  of  purple  blossom. 

A  terrace  ran  the  full  length  of  the  house,  bounded 
at  one  end  by  a  large  conservatory,  at  the  other  by 
an  aviary.  Wide  stone  steps,  at  intervals,  led  down 
from  the  terrace  on  to  the  soft  springy  turf  of  the  lawn. 
Beyond — the  wide  park;  clumps  of  old  trees,  haunted 
by  shy  brown  deer;  and,  through  the  trees,  fitful  gleams 
of  the  river,  a  narrow  silver  ribbon,  winding  gracefully 
in  and  out  between  long  grass,  buttercups,  and  cow- 
daisies. 

The  sun-dial  pointed  to  four  o'clock. 

The  birds  were  having  their  hour  of  silence.     Not  a 


2  The  Rosary 

trill  sounded  from  among  the  softly  moving  leaves,  not 
a  chirp,  not  a  twitter.  The  stillness  seemed  almost 
oppressive.  The  one  brilliant  spot  of  colour  in  the 
landscape  was  a  large  scarlet  macaw,  asleep  on  his  stand 
under  the  cedar. 

At  last  came  the  sound  of  an  opening  door.  A  quaint 
old  figure  stepped  out  on  to  the  terrace,  walked  its 
entire  length  to  the  right,  and  disappeared  into  the 
rose-garden.  The  Duchess  of  Meldrum  had  gone  to 
cut  her  roses. 

She  wore  an  ancient  straw  hat,  of  the  early- Victorian 
shape  known  as  "mushroom,"  tied  with  black  ribbons 
beneath  her  portly  chin;  a  loose  brown  holland  coat; 
a  very  short  tweed  skirt,  and  Engadine  "gouties. " 
She  had  on  some  very  old  gauntlet  gloves,  and  carried 
a  wooden  basket  and  a  huge  pair  of  scissors. 

A  wag  had  once  remarked  that  if  you  met  her  Grace 
of  Meldrum  returning  from  gardening  or  feeding  her 
poultry,  and  were  in  a  charitable  frame  of  mind,  you 
would  very  likely  give  her  sixpence.  But,  after  you 
had  thus  drawn  her  attention  to  yourself  and  she  looked 
at  you,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  cloak  would  not  be  in  it! 
Your  one  possible  course  would  be  to  collapse  into  the 
mud,  and  let  the  ducal  "gouties"  trample  on  you. 
This  the  duchess  would  do  with  gusto ;  then  accept  your 
apologies  with  good  nature;  and  keep  your  sixpence,  to 
show  when  she  told  the  story. 

The  duchess  lived  alone;  that  is  to  say,  she  had  no 
desire  for  the  perpetual  companionship  of  any  of  her 
own  kith  and  kin,  nor  for  the  constant  smiles  and 
flattery  of  a  paid  companion.  Her  pale  daughter, 
whom  she  had  systematically  snubbed,  had  married; 
her  handsome  son,  whom  she  had  adored  and  spoiled, 
had  prematurely  died,  before  the  death,  a   few  years 


Enter — The  Duchess  3 

since,  of  Thomas,  fifth  buke  of  Meldrum.  He  had 
come  to  a  sudden  and,  as  the  duchess  often  remarked, 
very  suitable  end;  for,  on  his  sixty-second  birthday, 
clad  in  all  the  splendours  of  his  hunting  scarlet,  top  hat, 
and  buff  corduroy  breeches,  the  mare  he  was  mercilessly 
putting  at  an  impossible  fence  suddenly  refused,  and 
Thomas,  Duke  of  Meldrum,  shot  into  a  field  of  turnips, 
pitched  upon  his  head,  and  spoke  no  more. 

This  sudden  cessation  of  his  noisy  and  fiery  life  meant 
a  complete  transformation  in  the  entourage  of  the 
duchess.  Hitherto  she  had  had  to  tolerate  the  boon 
companions,  congenial  to  himself,  with  whom  he  chose 
to  fill  the  house ;  or  to  invite  those  of  her  own  friends  to 
whom  she  could  explain  Thomas,  and  who  suffered 
Thomas  gladly,  out  of  friendship  for  her,  and  enjoyment 
of  lovely  Overdene.  But  even  then  the  duchess  had  no 
pleasure  in  her  parties;  for,  quaint  rough  diamond 
though  she  herself  might  appear,  the  bluest  of  blue  blood 
ran  in  her  veins;  and,  though  her  manner  had  the  off- 
hand abruptness  and  disregard  of  other  people's  feelings 
not  unfrequently  found  in  old  ladies  of  high  rank,  she 
was  at  heart  a  true  gentlewoman,  and  could  always  be 
trusted  to  say  and  do  the  right  thing  in  moments  of 
importance.  The  late  duke's  language  had  been  sulphur- 
ous and  his  manners  Georgian;  and  when  he  had  been 
laid  in  the  unwonted  quiet  of  his  ancestral  vault — "so 
unlike  him,  poor  dear,"  as  the  duchess  remarked,  "that 
it  is  quite  a  comfort  to  know  he  is  not  really  there" — • 
her  Grace  looked  around  her,  and  began  to  realise  the 
beauties  and  possibilities  of  Overdene. 

At  first  she  contented  herself  with  gardening,  making 
an  aviary,  and  surrounding  herself  with  all  sorts  of  queer 
birds  and  beasts;  upon  whom  she  lavished  the  affec- 
tion which,  of  late  years,  had  known  no  human  outlet 


4  The  Rosary 

But  after  a  while  her  natural  inclination  to  hospi- 
tality, her  humorous  enjoyment  of  other  people's  foibles, 
and  a  quaint  delight  in  parading  her  own,  led  to  a 
constant  succession  of  house-parties  at  Overdene,  which 
soon  became  known  as  a  Liberty  Hall  of  varied  delights, 
where  you  always  met  the  people  you  most  wanted  to 
meet,  found  every  facility  for  enjoying  your  favourite 
pastime,  were  fed  and  housed  in  perfect  style,  and  spent 
some  of  the  most  ideal  days  of  your  summer,  or  cheery 
days  of  your  winter,  never  dull,  never  bored,  free  to 
come  and  go  as  you  pleased,  and  everything  seasoned  for 
everybody  with  the  delightful  "sauce  piquante"  of 
never  being  quite  sure  what  the  duchess  would  do  or  say 
next. 

She  mentally  arranged  her  parties  under  three  heads, 
—"freak  parties,"  "mere  people  parties,"  and  "best 
parties. "  A  "best  party"  was  in  progress  on  the  lovely 
June  day  when  the  duchess,  having  enjoyed  an  unusually 
long  siesta,  donned  what  she  called  her  "garden  togs" 
and  sallied  forth  to  cut  roses. 

As  she  tramped  along  the  terrace  and  passed  through 
the  little  iron  gate  leading  to  the  rose-garden,  Tommy, 
the  scarlet  macaw,  opened  one  eye  and  watched  her ;  gave 
a  loud  kiss  as  she  reached  the  gate  and  disappeared  from 
view,  then  laughed  to  himself  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

Of  all  the  many  pets,  Tommy  was  prime  favourite. 
He  represented  the  duchess's  one  concession  to  morbid 
sentiment.  After  the  demise  of  the  duke  she  had  found 
it  so  depressing  to  be  invariably  addressed  with  suave 
deference  by  every  male  voice  she  heard.  If  the  butler 
could  have  snorted,  or  the  rector  have  rapped  out  an 
uncomplimentary  adjective,  the  duchess  would  have 
felt  cheered.  As  it  was,  a  fixed  and  settled  melancholy 
lay  upon  her  spirit  until  she  saw  in  a  dealer's  list  an 


Enter — The  Duchess  5 

advertisement  of  a  prize  macaw,  warranted  a  grand 
talker,  with  a  vocabulary  of  over  five  hundred  words. 

The  duchess  went  immediately  to  town,  paid  a  visit 
to  the  dealer,  heard  a  few  of  the  macaw's  words  and 
the  tone  in  which  he  said  them,  bought  him  on  the 
spot,  and  took  him  down  to  Overdene. 

The  first  evening  he  sat  crossly  on  the  perch  of  his 
grand  new  stand,  declining  to  say  a  single  one  of  his 
five  hundred  words,  though  the  duchess  spent  her 
evening  in  the  hall,  sitting  in  every  possible  place; 
first,  close  to  him;  then,  away  in  a  distant  corner;  in 
an  arm-chair  placed  behind  a  screen;  reading,  with 
her  back  turned,  feigning  not  to  notice  him;  facing 
him  with  concentrated  attention.  Tommy  merely  clicked 
his  tongue  at  her  every  time  she  emerged  from  a  hiding- 
place;  or,  if  the  rather  worried  butler  or  nervous  under- 
footman  passed  hurriedly  through  the  hall,  sent  showers 
of  kisses  after  them,  and  then  went  into  fits  of  ventri- 
loquial  laughter.  The  duchess,  in  despair,  even  tried 
reminding  him  in  a  whisper  of  the  remarks  he  had  made 
in  the  shop ;  but  Tommy  only  winked  at  her  and  put  his 
claw  over  his  beak.  Still,  she  enjoyed  his  flushed  and 
scarlet  appearance,  and  retired  to  rest  hopeful  and  in  no 
wise  regretting  her  bargain. 

The  next  morning  it  became  instantly  evident  to 
the  house-maid  who  swept  the  hall,  the  footman  who 
sorted  the  letters,  and  the  butler  who  sounded  the 
breakfast  gong,  that  a  good  night's  rest  had  restored 
to  Tommy  the  full  use  of  his  vocabulary.  And  when 
the  duchess  came  sailing  down  the  stairs,  ten  minutes 
after  the  gong  had  sounded,  and  Tommy,  flapping  his 
wings  angrily,  shrieked  at  her:  "Now  then,  old  girl! 
Come  on!"  she  went  to  breakfast  in  a  more  cheerful 
mood  than  she  had  known  for  months  past. 


CHAPTER  II 

INTRODUCES   THE  HONOURABLE  JANE 

THE  only  one  of  her  relatives  who  practically  made 
her  home  with  the  duchess  was  her  niece  and 
former  ward,  the  Honourable  Jane  Champion;  and 
this  consisted  merely  in  the  fact  that  the  Honourable 
Jane  was  the  one  person  who  might  invite  herself  to 
Overdene  or  Portland  Place,  arrive  when  she  chose, 
stay  as  long  as  she  pleased,  and  leave  when  it  suited 
her  convenience.  On  the  death  of  her  father,  when 
her  lonely  girlhood  in  her  Norfolk  home  came  to  an 
end,  she  would  gladly  have  filled  the  place  of  a  daughter 
to  the  duchess.  But  the  duchess  did  not  require  a 
daughter;  and  a  daughter  with  pronounced  views,  plenty 
of  back-bone  of  her  own,  a  fine  figure,  and  a  plain 
face,  would  have  seemed  to  her  Grace  of  Meldrum  a 
peculiarly  undesirable  acquisition.  So  Jane  was  given 
to  understand  that  she  might  come  whenever  she  liked, 
and  stay  as  long  as  she  liked,  but  on  the  same  footing  as 
other  people.  This  meant  liberty  to  come  and  go  as  she 
pleased,  and  no  responsibility  towards  her  aunt's  guests. 
The  duchess  preferred  managing  her  own  parties  in  her 
own  way. 

Jane  Champion  was  now  in  her  thirtieth  year.  She 
had  once  been  described,  by  one  who  saw  below  the 
surface,  as  a  perfectly  beautiful  woman  in  an  absolutely 
plain  shell;  and  no  man  had  as  yet  looked  beneath  the 
shell,  and  seen  the  woman  in  her  perfection.  She  would 
have  made  earth  heaven  for  a  blind  lover  who,  not 
having  eyes  for  the  plainness  of  her  face  or  the  massive- 

6 


Introduces  the  Honourable  Jane        7 

ness  of  her  figure,  might  have  drawn  nearer,  and  appre- 
hended the  wonder  of  her  as  a  woman,  experiencing  the 
wealth  of  tenderness  of  which  she  was  capable,  the 
blessed  comfort  of  the  shelter  of  her  love,  the  perfect 
comprehension  of  her  sympathy,  the  marvellous  joy  of 
winning  and  wedding  her.  But  as  yet,  no  blind  man 
with  far-seeing  vision  had  come  her  way ;  and  it  always 
seemed  to  be  her  lot  to  take  a  second  place,  on  occasions 
when  she  would  have  filled  the  first  to  infinite  perfection. 

She  had  been  bridesmaid  at  weddings  where  the 
charming  brides,  notwithstanding  their  superficial  love- 
liness, possessed  few  of  the  qualifications  for  wifehood 
with  which  she  was  so  richly  endowed. 

She  was  godmother  to  her  friends'  babies,  she,  whose 
motherhood  would  have  been  a  thing  for  wonder  and 
worship. 

She  had  a  glorious  voice,  but  her  face  not  matching 
it,  its  existence  was  rarely  suspected ;  and  as  she  accom- 
panied to  perfection,  she  was  usually  in  requisition  to 
play  for  the  singing  of  others. 

In  short,  all  her  life  long  Jane  had  filled  second  places, 
and  filled  them  very  contentedly.  She  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  be  absolutely  first  with  any  one.  Her 
mother's  death  had  occurred  during  her  infancy,  so  that 
she  had  not  even  the  most  shadowy  remembrance  of  that 
maternal  love  and  tenderness  which  she  used  sometimes 
to  try  to  imagine,  although  she  had  never  experienced  it. 

Her  mother's  maid,  a  faithful  and  devoted  woman, 
dismissed  soon  after  the  death  of  her  mistress,  chancing 
to  be  in  the  neighbourhood  some  twelve  years  later, 
called  at  the  manor,  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  in  the 
household  who  remembered  her. 

After  tea,  Fraulein  and  Miss  Jebb  being  out  of  the 
way,  she  was  spirited  up  into  the  schoolroom  to   see 


8  The  Rosary- 

Miss  Jane,  her  heart  full  of  memories  of  the  "sweet 
babe''  upon  whom  she  and  her  dear  lady  had  lavished 
so  much  love  and  care. 

She  found  awaiting  her  a  tall,  plain  girl  with  a  frank, 
boyish  manner  and  a  rather  disconcerting  way  as  she 
afterwards  remarked,  of  "taking  stock  of  a  body  the 
while  one  was  a-talking, "  which  at  first  checked  the 
flow  of  good  Sarah's  reminiscences,  poured  forth  so 
freely  in  the  housekeeper's  room  below,  and  reduced  her 
to  looking  tearfully  around  the  room,  remarking  that  she 
remembered  choosing  the  blessed  wall-paper  with  her 
dear  lady  now  gone,  whose  joy  had  been  so  great  when 
the  dear  babe  first  took  notice  and  reached  up  for  the 
roses.  "  And  I  can  show  you,  miss,  if  you  care  to  know  it, 
just  which  bunch  of  roses  it  were. " 

But  before  Sarah's  visit  was  over,  Jane  had  heard 
many  undreamed-of- things ;  amongst  others,  that  her 
mother  used  to  kiss  her  little  hands,  "ah,  many  a  time 
she  did,  miss ;  called  them  little  rose-petals,  and  covered 
them  with  kisses. " 

The  child,  utterly  unused  to  any  demonstrations  of 
affection,  looked  at  her  rather  ungainly  brown  hands 
and  laughed,  simply  because  she  was  ashamed  of  the 
unwonted  tightening  at  her  throat  and  the  queer  sting- 
ing of  tears  beneath  her  eyelids.  Thus  Sarah  departed 
under  the  impression  that  Miss  Jane  had  grown  up  into 
rather  a  heartless  young  lady.  But  Fraulein  and  Jebbie 
never  knew  why,  from  that  day  onward,  the  hands,  of 
which  they  had  so  often  had  cause  to  complain,  were 
kept  scrupulously  clean;  and  on  her  birthday  night, 
unashamed  in  the  quiet  darkness,  the  lonely  little  child 
kissed  her  own  hands  beneath  the  bedclothes,  striving 
thus  to  reach  the  tenderness  of  her  dead  mother's  lips. 

And  in  after  years,  when  she  became  her  own  mistress, 


Introduces  the  Honourable  Jane        9 

one  of  her  first  actions  was  to  advertise  for  Sarah  Mat- 
thews and  engage  her  as  her  own  maid,  at  a  salary  which 
enabled  the  good  woman  eventually  to  buy  herself  a 
comfortable  annuity. 

Jane  saw  but  little  of  her  father,  who  had  found  it 
difficult  to  forgive  her,  firstly,  for  being  a  girl  when  he 
desired  a  son;  secondly,  being  a  girl,  for  having  in- 
herited his  plainness  rather  than  her  mother's  beauty. 
Parents  are  apt  to  see  no  injustice  in  the  fact  that  they 
are  often  annoyed  with  their  offspring  for  possessing 
attributes,  both  of  character  and  appearance,  with 
which  they  themselves  have  endowed  them. 

The  hero  of  Jane's  childhood,  the  chum  of  her  girl- 
hood, and  the  close  friend  of  her  maturer  years,  was 
Deryck  Brand,  only  son  of  the  rector  of  the  parish,  and 
her  senior  by  nearly  ten  years.  But  even  in  their  friend- 
ship, close  though  it  was,  she  had  never  felt  herself 
first  to  him.  As  a  medical  student,  at  home  during 
vacations,  his  mother  and  his  profession  took  pre- 
cedence in  his  mind  of  the  lonely  child,  whose  devotion 
pleased  him  and  whose  strong  character  and  original 
mental  development  interested  him.  Later  on  he  mar- 
ried a  lovely  girl,  as  unlike  Jane  as  one  woman  could 
possibly  be  to  another ;  but  still  their  friendship  held  and 
deepened;  and  now,  when  he  was  rapidly  advancing  to 
the  very  front  rank  of  his  profession,  her  appreciation  of 
his  work,  and  sympathetic  understanding  of  his  aims 
and  efforts,  meant  more  to  him  than  even  the  signal 
mark  of  royal  favour,  of  which  he  had  lately  been  the 
recipient. 

Jane  Champion  had  no  close  friends  amongst  the 
women  of  her  set.  Her  lonely  girlhood  had  bred  in  her 
an  absolute  frankness  towards  herself  and  other  people 
which  made  it  difficult  for  her  to  understand  or  tolerate 


io  The  Rosary 

the  little  artificialities  of  society,  or  the  trivial  weak- 
nesses of  her  own  sex.  Women  to  whom  she  had  shown 
special  kindness — and  they  were  many — maintained  an 
attitude  of  grateful  admiration  in  her  presence,  and  of 
cowardly  silence  in  her  absence  when  she  chanced  to  be 
under  discussion. 

But  of  men  friends  she  had  many,  especially  among 
a  set  of  }^oung  fellows  just  through  college,  of  whom 
she  made  particular  chums;  nice  lads,  who  wrote  to 
her  of  their  college  and  mess-room  scrapes,  as  they 
would  never  have  dreamed  of  doing  to  their  own  mothers. 
She  knew  perfectly  well  that  they  called  her  "old  Jane" 
and  "pretty  Jane"  and  "dearest  Jane"  amongst  them- 
selves, but  she  believed  in  the  harmlessness  of  their 
fun  and  the  genuineness  of  their  affection,  and  gave 
them  a  generous  amount  of  her  own  in  return. 

Jane  Champion  happened  just  now  to  be  paying  one 
of  her  long  visits  to  Overdene,  and  was  playing  golf 
with  a  boy  for  whom  she  had  long  had  a  rod  in  pickle, 
on  this  summer  afternoon  when  the  duchess  went  to 
cut  blooms  in  her  rose-garden.  Only,  as  Jane  found 
out,  you  cannot  decorously  lead  up  to  a  scolding  if  you 
are  very  keen  on  golf,  and  go  golfing  with  a  person 
who  is  equally  enthusiastic,  and  who  all  the  way  to 
the  links  explains  exactly  how  he  played  every  hole 
the  last  time  he  went  round,  and  all  the  way  back  gloats 
over,  in  retrospection,  the  way  you  and  he  have  played 
every  hole  this  time. 

So  Jane  considered  her  afternoon,  didactically,  a 
failure.  But,  in  the  smoking-room  that  night,  young 
Cathcart  explained  the  game  all  over  again  to  a  few 
choice  spirits,  and  then  remarked:  "Old  Jane  was 
superb!  Fancy:  Such  a  drive  as  that,  and  doing 
number  seven  in  three  and  not  talking  about  it!     I'v* 


Introduces  the  Honourable  Jane       n 

jolly  well  mad  up  my  mind  to  send  no  more  bouquets 
to  Tou-Tou.  Hang  it,  boys!  You  can't  see  yourself 
at  champagne  suppers  with  a  dancing-woman,  when 
you've  walked  round  the  links,  on  a  day  like  this,  with 
the  Honourable  Jane.  She  drives  like  a  rifle  shot,  and 
when  she  lofts,  you'd  think  the  ball  was  a  swallow;  and 
beat  me  three  holes  up  and  never  mentioned  it.  By 
Jove,  a  fellow  wants  to  have  a  clean  bill  when  he  shakes 
hands  with  her!" 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    SURPRISE   PACKET 

THE  sun-dial  pointed  to  half  past  four  o'clock. 
The  hour  of  silence  appeared  to  be  over.     The 
birds  commenced  twittering;  and  a  cuckoo,  in  an  ad- 
jacent wood,  sounded  his  note  at  intervals. 

The  house  awoke  to  sudden  life.  There  was  an  open- 
ing and  shutting  of  doors.  Two  footmen,  in  the  mul- 
berry and  silver  of  the  Meldrum  livery,  hurried  down 
from  the  terrace,  carrying  folding  tea-tables,  with  which 
they  supplemented  those  of  rustic  oak  standing  per- 
manently under  the  cedar.  One,  promptly  returned 
to  the  house ;  while  the  other  remained  behind,  spreading 
snowy  cloths  over  each  table. 

The  macaw  awoke,  stretched  his  wings  and  flapped 
them  twice,  then  sidled  up  and  down  his  perch,  con- 
centrating his  attention  upon  the  footman. 

"Mind!"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  in  the  butler's 
voice,  as  a  cloth,  flung  on  too  hurriedly,  fluttered  to 
the  grass. 

"Hold  your  jaw!"  said  the  young  footman  irritably, 
flicking  the  bird  with  the  table-cloth,  and  then  glancing 
furtively  at  the  rose-garden. 

"Tommy  wants  a  gooseberry!"  shrieked  the  macaw, 
dodging  the  table-cloth  and  hanging,  head  downwards, 
from  his  perch. 

"Don't  you  wish  you  may  get  it?"  said  the  footman 
viciously. 

"Give  it  him,  somebody,"  remarked  Tommy,  in  the 
duchess's  voice. 

12 


The  Surprise  Packet  13 

The  footman  started,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder; 
then  hurriedly  told  Tommy  just  what  he  thought  of 
him,  and  where  he  wished  him;  cuffed  him  soundly, 
and  returned  to  the  house,  followed  by  peals  of  laughter, 
mingled  with  exhortations  and  imprecations  from  the 
angry  bird,  who  danced  up  and  down  on  his  perch  until 
his  enemy  had  vanished  from  view. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  tables  were  spread  with  the 
large  variety  of  eatables  considered  necessary  at  an 
English  afternoon  tea;  the  massive  silver  urn  and  tea- 
pots gleamed  on  the  buffet-table,  behind  which  the 
old  butler  presided ;  muffins,  crumpets,  cakes,  and  every 
kind  of  sandwich  supplemented  the  dainty  little  rolled 
slices  of  white  and  brown  bread-and-butter,  while  heaped- 
up  bowls  of  freshly  gathered  strawberries  lent  a  touch  of 
colour  to  the  artistic  effect  of  white  and  silver.  When  all 
was  ready,  the  butler  raised  his  hand  and  sounded  an  old 
Chinese  gong  hanging  in  the  cedar  tree.  Before  the 
penetrating  boom  had  died  away,  voices  were  heard  in 
the  distance  from  all  over  the  grounds. 

Up  from  the  river,  down  from  the  tennis  courts,  out 
from  house  and  garden,  came  the  duchess's  guests, 
rejoicing  in  the  refreshing  prospect  of  tea,  hurrying 
to  the  welcome  shade  of  the  cedar; — charming  women 
in  white,  carefully  guarding  their  complexions  beneath 
shady  hats  and  picturesque  parasols; — delightful  girls, 
who  had  long  ago  sacrificed  complexions  to  comfort, 
and  now  walked  across  the  lawn  bareheaded,  swinging 
their  rackets  and  discussing  the  last  hard-fought  set; 
men  in  flannels,  sunburned  and  handsome,  joining  in 
the  talk  and  laughter;  praising  their  partners,  while  re- 
maining unobtrusively  silent  as  to  their  own  achievements. 

They  made  a  picturesque  group  as  they  gathered 
under   the   tree,    subsiding   with   immense   satisfaction 


14  The  Rosary 

into  the  low  wicker  chairs,  or  on  to  the  soft  turf,  and 
helping  themselves  to  what  they  pleased.  When  all 
were  supplied  with  tea,  coffee,  or  iced  drinks,  to  their 
liking,  conversation  flowed  again. 

"So  the  duchess's  concert  comes  off  to-night,"  re- 
marked some  one.  "I  wish  to  goodness  they  would 
hang  this  tree  with  Chinese  lanterns  and  have  it  out 
here.    It  is  too  hot  to  face  a  crowded  function  indoors. " 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Garth  Dalmain.  "I'm 
stage-manager,  you  know;  and  I  can  promise  you  that 
all  the  long  windows  opening  on  to  the  terrace  shall 
stand  wide.  So  no  one  need  be  in  the  concert-room,  who 
prefers  to  stop  outside.  There  will  be  a  row  of  lounge 
chairs  placed  on  the  terrace  near  the  windows.  You 
won't  see  much;  but  you  will  hear,  perfectly. " 

"Ah,  but  half  the  fun  is  in  seeing,"  exclaimed  one 
of  the  tennis  girls.  "People  who  have  remained  on 
the  terrace  will  miss  all  the  point  of  it  afterwards  when 
the  dear  duchess  shows  us  how  everybody  did  it.  I 
don't  care  how  hot  it  is.  Book  me  a  seat  in  the  front 
row!" 

"Who  is  the  surprise  packet  to-night?"  asked  Lady 
Ingleby,  who  had  arrived  since  luncheon. 

"Velma, "  said  Mary  Strathern.  "She  is  coming  for 
the  week-end,  and  delightful  it  will  be  to  have  her. 
No  one  but  the  duchess  could  have  worked  it,  and  no 
place  but  Overdene  would  have  tempted  her.  She 
will  sing  only  one  song  at  the  concert;  but  she  is  sure 
to  break  forth  later  on,  and  give  us  plenty.  We  will 
persuade  Jane  to  drift  to  the  piano  accidentally  and 
play  over,  just  by  chance,  the  opening  bars  of  some 
of  Velma's  best  things,  and  we  shall  soon  hear  the 
magic  voice.  She  never  can  resist  a  perfectly  played 
accompaniment. " 


The  Surprise  Packet  15 

"Why  call  Madame  Velma  the  'surprise  packet'?" 
asked  a  girl,  to  whom  the  Overdene  "best  parties" 
were  a  new  experience. 

"That,  my  dear,"  replied  Lady  Ingleby,  "is  a  little 
joke  of  the  duchess's.  This  concert  is  arranged  for 
the  amusement  of  her  house  party,  and  for  the  gratifica- 
tion and  glorification  of  local  celebrities.  The  whole 
neighbourhood  is  invited.  None  of  you  are  asked  to 
perform,  but  local  celebrities  are.  In  fact  they  fur- 
nish the  entire  programme,  to  their  own  delight,  the 
satisfaction  of  their  friends  and  relatives,  and  our 
entertainment,  particularly  afterwards  when  the  duchess 
takes  us  through  every  item,  with  original  notes,  com- 
ments, and  impersonations.  Oh,  Dal!  Do  you  remem- 
ber when  she  tucked  a  sheet  of  white  writing-paper  into 
her  tea-gown  for  a  dog  collar,  and  took  off  the  high- 
church  curate  nervously  singing  a  comic  song?  Then  at 
the  very  end,  you  see — and  really  some  of  it  is  quite  good 
for  amateurs — she  trots  out  Velma,  or  some  equally 
perfect  artiste,  to  show  them  how  it  really  can  be  done; 
and  suddenly  the  place  is  full  of  music,  and  a  great  hush 
falls  on  the  audience,  and  the  poor  complacent  amateurs 
realise  that  the  noise  they  have  been  making  was, 
after  all,  not  music;  and  they  go  dumbly  home.  But 
they  have  forgotten  all  about  it  by  the  following  year; 
or  a  fresh  contingent  of  willing  performers  steps  into 
the  breach.  The  duchess's  little  joke  always  comes 
off." 

"The  Honourable  Jane  does  not  approve  of  it,"  said 
young  Ronald  Ingram;  "therefore  she  is  generally 
given  marching  orders  and  departs  to  her  next  visit 
before  the  event.  But  no  one  can  accompany  Madame 
Velma  so  perfectly,  so  this  time  she  is  commanded 
to  stay.    But  I  doubt  if  the  'surprise  packet'  will  come 


1 6  The  Rosary 

off  with  quite  such  a  shock  as  usual,  and  I  am  certain 
the  fun  won't  be  so  good  afterwards.  The  Honourable 
Jane  has  been  known  to  jump  on  the  duchess  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  She  is  safe  to  get  the  worst  of  it  at  the 
time,  but  it  has  a  restraining  effect  afterwards." 

"I  think  Miss  Champion  is  quite  right,"  said  a 
bright-faced  American  girl,  bravely,  holding  a  gold 
spoon  poised  for  a  moment  over  the  strawberry  ice- 
cream with  which  Garth  Dalmain  had  supplied  her. 
"In  my  country  we  should  call  it  real  mean  to  laugh 
at  people  who  had  been  our  guests  and  performed  in 
our  houses." 

"In  your  country,  my  dear,"  said  Myra  Ingleby, 
"you  have  no  duchesses." 

"Well,  we  supply  you  with  quite  a  good  few," 
replied  the  American  girl  calmly,  and  went  on  with 
her  ice. 

A  general  laugh  followed,  and  the  latest  Anglo- 
American  match  came  up  for  discussion. 

"Where  is  the  Honourable  Jane?"  inquired  some  one 
presently. 

"Golfing  with  Billy,"  said  Ronald  Ingram.  "Ah, 
here  they  come." 

Jane's  tall  figure  was  seen,  walking  along  the  terrace, 
accompanied  by  Billy  Cathcart,  talking  eagerly.  They 
put  their  clubs  away  in  the  lower  hall;  then  came  down 
the  lawn  together  to  the  tea-tables. 

Jane  wore  a  tailor-made  coat  and  skirt  of  grey  tweed, 
a  blue  and  white  cambric  shirt,  starched  linen  collar 
and  cuffs,  a  silk  tie,  and  a  soft  felt  hat  with  a  few  black 
quills  in  it.  She  walked  with  the  freedom  of  movement 
and  swing  of  limb  which  indicate  great  strength  and  a 
body  well  under  control.  Her  appearance  was  ex- 
traordinarily unlike  that  of  all  the  pretty  and  graceful 


The  Surprise  Packet  17 

women  grouped  beneath  the  cedar  tree.  And  yet  it  was 
in  no  sense  masculine — or,  to  use  a  more  appropriate 
word,  mannish;  for  everything  strong  is  masculine,  but  a 
woman  who  apes  an  appearance  of  strength  which  she 
does  not  possess,  is  mannish; — rather  was  it  so  truly 
feminine  that  she  could  afford  to  adopt  a  severe  sim- 
plicity of  attire,  which  suited  admirably  the  decided 
plainness  of  her  features,  and  the  almost  massive 
proportions  of  her  figure. 

She  stepped  into  the  circle  beneath  the  cedar,  and  took 
one  of  the  half-dozen  places  immediately  vacated  by  the 
men,  with  the  complete  absence  of  self-consciousness 
which  always  characterised  her. 

"What  did  you  go  round  in,  Miss  Champion?" 
inquired  one  of  the  men. 

"My  ordinary  clothes,"  replied  Jane;  quoting  Punch, 
and  evading  the  question. 

But  Billy  burst  out:  "She  went  round  in " 

"Oh,  be  quiet,  Billy,"  interposed  Jane.  "You  and 
I  are  practically  the  only  golf  maniacs  present.  Most 
of  these  dear  people  are  even  ignorant  as  to  who  '  bogie ' 
is,  or  why  we  should  be  so  proud  of  beating  him.  Where 
is  my  aunt?  Poor  Simmons  was  toddling  all  over  the 
place  when  we  went  in  to  put  away  our  clubs,  searching 
for  her  with  a  telegram. " 

"Why  didn't  you  open  it?"  asked  Myra. 

"Because  my  aunt  never  allows  her  telegrams  to 
be  opened.  She  loves  shocks;  and  there  is  always  the 
possibility  of  a  telegram  containing  startling  news. 
She  says  it  completely  spoils  it  if  some  one  else  knows 
it  first,  and  breaks  it  to  her  gently." 

"Here  comes  the  duchess,"  said  Garth  Dalmain,  who 
was  sitting  where  he  could  see  the  little  gate  into  the 
rose-garden. 


1 8  The  Rosary 

"Do  not  mention  the  telegram,"  cautioned  Jane. 
"It  would  not  please  her  that  I  should  even  know  of 
its  arrival.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  take  any  of  the 
bloom  off  the  unexpected  delight  of  a  wire  on  this  hot 
day,  when  nothing  unusual  seemed  likely  to  happen. " 

They  turned  and  looked  towards  the  duchess  as 
she  bustled  across  the  lawn;  this  quaint  old  figure, 
who  had  called  them  together;  who  owned  the  lovely 
place  where  they  were  spending  such  delightful  days; 
and  whose  odd  whimsicalities  had  been  so  freely  dis- 
cussed while  they  drank  her  tea  and  feasted  off  her 
strawberries.  The  men  rose  as  she  approached,  but 
not  quite  so  spontaneously  as  they  had  done  for  her 
niece. 

The  duchess  carried  a  large  wooden  basket  filled  to 
overflowing  with  exquisite  roses.  Every  bloom  was 
perfect,  and  each  had  been  cut  at  exactly  the  right 
moment. 


CHAPTER  IV 

JANE   VOLUNTEERS 

THE  duchess  plumped  down  her  basket  in  the  middle 
of  the  strawberry  table. 

"There,  good  people!"  she  said,  rather  breathlessly. 
"Help  yourselves,  and  let  me  see  you  all  wearing  roses 
to-night.  And  the  concert-room  is  to  be  a  bower  of 
roses.  We  will  call  it  'La  Fete  des  Roses.'  .  .  .  No, 
thank  you,  Ronnie.  That  tea  has  been  made  half  an 
hour  at  least,  and  you  ought  to  love  me  too  well  to  press 
it  upon  me.  Besides,  I  never  take  tea.  I  have  a  whiskey 
and  soda  when  I  wake  from  my  nap,  and  that  sustains 
me  until  dinner.  Oh  yes,  my  dear  Myra,  I  know  I 
came  to  your  interesting  meeting,  and  signed  that 
excellent  pledge  'pour  encourager  les  autres';  but  I 
drove  straight  to  my  doctor  when  I  left  your  house, 
and  he  gave  me  a  certificate  to  say  I  must  take  something 
when  I  needed  it ;  and  I  always  need  it  when  I  wake  from 
my  nap.  .  .  .  Really,  Dal,  it  is  positively  wicked  for 
any  man,  off  the  stage,  to  look  as  picturesque  as  you  do, 
in  that  pale  violet  shirt,  and  dark  violet  tie,  and  those 
white  flannels.  If  I  were  your  grandmother  I  should 
send  you  in  to  take  them  off.  If  you  turn  the  heads  of 
old  dowagers  such  as  I  am,  what  chance  have  all  these 
chickens?  .  .  .  Hush,  Tommy!  That  was  a  very  naughty 
word!  And  you  need  not  be  jealous  of  Dal.  I  admire 
you  still  more.    Dal,  will  you  paint  my  scarlet  macaw?" 

The  young  artist,  whose  portraits  in  that  year's 
Academy  had  created  much  interest  in  the  artistic 
world,  and  whose  violet  shirt  had  just  been  so  severely 

19 


20  The  Rosary 

censured,  lay  back  in  his  lounge-chair,  with  his  arms 
behind  his  head  and  a  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  bright 
brown  eyes. 

"No,  dear  Duchess,"  he  said.  "I  beg  respectfully 
to  decline  the  commission.  Tommy  would  require  a 
Landseer  to  do  full  justice  to  his  attitudes  and  expres- 
sion. Besides,  it  would  be  demoralising  to  an  innocent 
and  well-brought-up  youth,  such  as  you  know  me  to 
be,  to  spend  long  hours  in  Tommy's  society,  listening 
to  the  remarks  that  sweet  bird  would  make  while  I 
painted  him.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I 
will  paint  you,  dear  Duchess,  only  not  in  that  hat! 
Ever  since  I  was  quite  a  small  boy,  a  straw  hat  with 
black  ribbons  tied  under  the  chin  has  made  me  feel 
ill.  If  I  yielded  to  my  natural  impulses  now,  I  should 
hide  my  face  in  Miss  Champion's  lap,  and  kick  and 
scream  until  you  took  it  off.  I  will  paint  you  in  the 
blaclc  velvet  gown  you  wore  last  night,  with  the  Medici 
collar,  and  the  jolly  arrangement  of  lace  and  diamonds 
on  your  head.  And  in  your  hand  you  shall  hold  an 
antique  crystal  mirror,  mounted  in  silver. " 

The  artist  half  closed  his  eyes,  and  as  he  described 
his  picture  in  a  voice  full  of  music  and  mystery,  an 
attentive  hush  fell  upon  the  gay  group  around  him. 
When  Garth  Dalmain  described  his  pictures,  people 
saw  them.  When  they  walked  into  the  Academy  or 
the  New  Gallery  the  following  year,  they  would  say: 
"Ah,  there  it  is!  Just  as  we  saw  it  that  day,  before  a 
stroke  of  it  was  on  the  canvas. " 

"In  your  left  hand,  you  shall  hold  the  mirror,  but 
you  shall  not  be  looking  into  it;  because  you  never  look 
into  mirrors,  dear  Duchess,  excepting  to  see  whether 
the  scolding  you  are  giving  your  maid,  as  she  stands 
behind  you,  is  making  her  cry;  and  whether  that  is 


Jane  Volunteers  21 

why  she  is  being  so  clumsy  in  her  manipulation  of  pins 
and  things.  If  it  is,  you  promptly  promise  her  a  day 
off,  to  go  and  see  her  old  mother;  and  pay  her  journey 
there  and  back.  If  it  isn't,  you  scold  her  some  more. 
Were  I  the  maid,  I  should  always  cry,  large  tears  war- 
ranted to  show  in  the  glass;  only  I  should  not  sniff, 
because  sniffing  is  so  intensely  aggravating;  and  I 
should  be  most  frightfully  careful  that  my  tears  did 
not  run  down  your  neck. " 

"  Dal,  you  ridiculous  child! "  said  the  duchess.  "  Leave 
off  talking  about  my  maids,  and  my  neck,  and  your 
crocodile  tears,  and  finish  describing  the  portrait.  What 
do  I  do  with  the  mirror?  " 

"You  do  not  look  into  it,"  continued  Garth  Dal- 
main,  meditatively;  "because  we  know  that  is  a  thing 
you  never  do.  Even  when  you  put  on  that  hat,  and 
tie  those  ribbons — Miss  Champion,  I  wish  you  would 
hold  my  hand — in  a  bow  under  your  chin,  you  don't 
consult  the  mirror.  But  you  shall  sit  with  it  in  your 
left  hand,  your  elbow  resting  on  an  Eastern  table  of 
black  ebony  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl.  You  will 
turn  it  from  you,  so  that  it  reflects  something  exactly 
in  front  of  you  in  the  imaginary  foreground.  You  will 
be  looking  at  this  unseen  object  with  an  expression 
of  sublime  affection.  And  in  the  mirror  I  will  paint  a 
vivid,  brilliant,  complete  reflection,  minute,  but  perfect 
in  every  detail,  of  your  scarlet  macaw  on  his  perch.  We 
will  call  it  '  Reflections, '  because  one  must  always  give 
a  silly  up-to-date  title  to  pictures,  and  just  now  one 
nondescript  word  is  the  fashion,  unless  you  feel  it  needful 
to  attract  to  yourself  the  eye  of  the  public,  in  the  cata- 
logue, by  calling  your  picture  twenty  lines  of  Tennyson. 
But  when  the  portrait  goes  down  to  posterity  as  a 
famous  picture,  it   will    figure  in  the  catalogue  of  the 


22  The  Rosary, 

National  Gallery  as  '  The  Duchess,  the  Mirror,  and  the 
Macaw.'  " 

"Bravo!"  said  the  duchess,  delighted.  "You  shall 
paint  it,  Dal,  in  time  for  next  year's  Academy,  and  we 
will  all  go  and  see  it. " 

And  he  did.  And  they  all  went.  And  when  they 
saw  it  they  said:  "Ah,  of  course!  There  it  is;  just  as 
we  saw  it  under  the  cedar  at  Overdene. " 

"Here  comes  Simmons  with  something  on  a  salver," 
exclaimed  the  duchess.  "  How  that  man  waddles !  Why 
can't  somebody  teach  him  to  step  out?  Jane!  You 
march  across  this  lawn  like  a  grenadier.  Can't  you 
explain  to  Simmons  how  it's  done?  .  .  .  Well?  What 
is  it?  Ha!  A  telegram.  Now  what  horrible  thing  can 
have  happened?  Who  would  like  to  guess?  I  hope  it  is 
not  merely  some  idiot  who  has  missed  a  train." 

Amid  a  breathless  and  highly  satisfactory  silence, 
the  duchess  tore  open  the  orange  envelope. 

Apparently  the  shock  was  of  a  thorough,  though  not 
enjoyable,  kind;  for  the  duchess,  at  all  times  highly 
coloured,  became  purple  as  she  read,  and  absolutely 
inarticulate  with  indignation.  Jane  rose  quietly,  looked 
over  her  aunt's  shoulder,  read  the  long  message,  and 
returned  to  her  seat. 

"Creature!"  exclaimed  the  duchess,  at  last.  "Oh, 
creature!  This  comes  of  asking  them  as  friends.  And 
I  had  a  lovely  string  of  pearls  for  her,  worth  far  more 
than  she  would  have  been  offered,  professionally,  for  one 
song.    And  to  fail  at  the  last  minute!    Oh,  creature!" 

"Dear  aunt,"  said  Jane,  "if  poor  Madame  Velma 
has  a  sudden  attack  of  laryngitis,  she  could  not  possibly 
sing  a  note,  even  had  the  Queen  commanded  her.  Her 
telegram  is  full  of  regrets. " 

"Don't  argue,  Jane!"  exclaimed  the  duchess,  crossly. 


Jane  Volunteers  23 

"And  don't  drag  in  the  Queen,  who  has  nothing  to 
do  with  my  concert  or  Velma's  throat.  I  do  abomi- 
nate irrelevance,  and  you  know  it!  Why  must  she 
have  her  what-do-you-call-it,  just  when  she  was  com- 
ing to  sing  here?  In  my  young  days  people  never  had 
these  new-fangled  complaints.  I  have  no  patience  with 
all  this  appendicitis  and  what  not — cutting  people  open 
at  every  possible  excuse.  In  my  young  days  we  called 
it  a  good  old-fashioned  stomach-ache,  and  gave  them 
Turkey  rhubarb ! " 

Myra  Ingleby  hid  her  face  behind  her  garden  hat; 
and  Garth  Dalmain  whispered  to  Jane:  "I  do  abomi- 
nate irrelevance,  and  you  know  it!"  But  Jane  shook 
her  head  at  him,  and  refused  to  smile. 

"Tommy  wants  a  gooseberry!"  shouted  the  macaw, 
having  apparently  noticed  the  mention  of  rhubarb. 

"  Oh,  give  it  him,  somebody ! "  said  the  worried  duchess. 

"Dear  aunt,"  said  Jane,  "there  are  no  gooseberries." 

"Don't  argue,  girl!"  cried  the  duchess,  furiously; 
and  Garth,  delighted,  shook  his  head  at  Jane.  "When 
he  says  'gooseberry,'  he  means  anything  green,  as  you 
very  well  know!" 

Half  a  dozen  people  hastened  to  Tommy  with  lettuce, 
water-cress,  and  cucumber  sandwiches;  and  Garth  picked 
one  blade  of  grass,  and  handed  it  to  Jane,  with  an  air 
of  anxious  solicitude;  but  Jane  ignored  it. 

"No  answer,  Simmons,"  said  the  duchess.  "Why 
don't  you  go?  .  .  .  Oh,  how  that  man  waddles !  Teach 
him  to  walk,  somebody !  Now  the  question  is,  What  is 
to  be  done?  Here  is  half  the  county  coming  to  hear 
Velma,  by  my  invitation;  and  Velma  in  London  pre- 
tending to  have  appendicitis — no,  I  mean  the  other 
thing.  Oh,  'drat  the  woman!'  as  that  clever  bird  would 
say." 


24  The  Rosary 

"Hold  your  jaw!"  shouted  Tommy.  The  duchess 
smiled,   and  consented  to   sit   down. 

"But,  dear  Duchess,"  suggested  Garth  in  his  most 
soothing  voice,  "the  county  does  not  know  Madame 
Velma  was  to  be  here.  It  was  a  profound  secret.  You 
were  to  trot  her  out  at  the  end.  Lady  Ingleby  called  her 
your  'surprise  packet.' 

Myra  came  out  from  behind  her  garden  hat,  and  the 
duchess  nodded  at  her  approvingly. 

"  Quite  true, "  she  said.  "  That  was  the  lovely  part  of 
it.    Oh,  creature!" 

"But,  dear  Duchess,"  pursued  Garth  persuasively, 
"if  the  county  did  not  know,  the  county  will  not  be 
disappointed.  They  are  coming  to  listen  to  one  another, 
and  to  hear  themselves,  and  to  enjoy  your  claret-cup  and 
ices.  All  this  they  will  do,  and  go  away  delighted, 
saying  how  cleverly  the  dear  duchess  discovers  and 
exploits  local  talent." 

"Ah,  ha!"  said  the  duchess,  with  a  gleam  in  the  hawk 
eye,  and  a  raising  of  the  hooked  nose — which  Mrs.  Parker 
Bangs  of  Chicago,  who  had  met  the  duchess  once  or  twice, 
described  as  "genuine  Plantagenet "— " but  they  will  go 
away  wise  in  their  own  conceits,  and  satisfied  with  their 
own  mediocre  performances.  My  idea  is  to  let  them  do  it, 
and  then  show  them  how  it  should  be  done." 

"But  Aunt  'Gina,"  said  Jane,  gently;  "surely  you 
forget  that  most  of  these  people  have  been  to  town  and 
heard  plenty  of  good  music,  Madame  Velma  herself 
most  likely,  and  all  the  great  singers.  They  know  they 
cannot  sing  like  a  prima  donna;  but  they  do  their  anxious 
best,  because  you  ask  them.  I  cannot  see  that  they 
require  an  object  lesson" 

"Jane,"  said  the  duchess,  "for  the  third  time  this 
afternoon  I  must  request  you  not  to  argue. " 


jane  Volunteers  25 

"Miss  Champion,"  said  Garth  Dalmain,  "if  I  were 
your  grandmamma,  I  should  send  you  to  bed." 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  reiterated  the  duchess.  "She 
was  to  sing  The  Rosary.  I  had  set  my  heart  on  it. 
The  whole  decoration  of  the  room  is  planned  to  suit  that 
song — festoons  of  white  roses,  and  a  great  red  cross  at 
the  back  of  the  platform,  made  entirely  of  crimson 
ramblers.    Jane!" 

"Yes,  aunt." 

"Oh,  don't  say  'Yes,  aunt,'  in  that  senseless  way! 
Can't  you  make  some  suggestion?" 

"Drat  the  woman!"  exclaimed  Tommy,  suddenly. 

"Hark  to  that  sweet  bird!"  cried  the  duchess,  her 
good  humour  fully  restored.  "Give  him  a  strawberry, 
somebody.    Now,  Jane,  what  do  you  suggest?" 

Jane  Champion  was  seated  with  her  broad  back  half 
turned  to  her  aunt,  one  knee  crossed  over  the  other, 
her  large,  capable  hands  clasped  round  it.  She  loosed 
her  hands,  turned  slowly  round,  and  looked  into  the 
keen  eyes  peering  at  her  from  under  the  mushroom  hat. 
As  she  read  the  half -resentful,  half -appealing  demand  in 
them,  a  slow  smile  dawned  in  her  own.  She  waited  a 
moment  to  make  sure  of  the  duchess's  meaning,  then  said 
quietly:  "I  will  sing  The  Rosary  for  you,  in  Velma's 
place,  to-night,  if  you  really  wish  it,  aunt." 

Had  the  gathering  under  the  tree  been  a  party  of 
"mere  people,"  it  would  have  gasped.  Had  it  been 
a  "freak  party,"  it  would  have  been  loud-voiced  in  its 
expressions  of  surprise.  Being  a  "best  party,"  it  gave 
no  outward  sign;  but  a  sense  of  blank  astonishment, 
purely  mental,  was  in  the  air.  The  duchess  herself  was 
the  only  person  present  who  had  heard  Jane  Champion 
sing. 

"Have  you  the  song?"  asked  her  Grace  of  Meldrum, 


26  The  Rosary 

rising,  and  picking  up  her  telegram  and  empty  basket. 

"I  have,"  said  Jane.  "I  spent  a  few  hours  with 
Madame  Blanche  when  I  was  in  town  last  month;  and 
she,  who  so  rarely  admires  these  modern  songs,  was 
immensely  taken  with  it.  She  sang  it,  and  allowed 
me  to  accompany  her.  We  spent  nearly  an  hour  over 
it.    I  obtained  a  copy  afterwards. " 

"Good,"  said  the  duchess.  "Then  I  count  on  you. 
Now  I  must  send  a  sympathetic  telegram  to  that  poor 
dear  Velma,  who  will  be  fretting  at  having  to  fail  us. 
So  '  au  revoir, '  good  people.  Remember,  we  dine  punc- 
tually at  eight  o'clock.  Music  is  supposed  to  begin  at 
nine.  Ronnie,  be  a  kind  boy,  and  carry  Tommy  into 
the  hall  for  me.  He  will  screech  so  fearfully  if  he  sees 
me  walk  away  without  him.  He  is  so  very  loving, 
dear  bird!" 

Silence  under  the  cedar. 

Most  people  were  watching  young  Ronald,  holding 
the  stand  as  much  at  arm's  length  as  possible,  while 
Tommy,  keeping  his  balance  wonderfully,  sidled  up 
close  to  him,  evidently  making  confidential  remarks 
into  Ronnie's  terrified  ear.  The  duchess  walked  on 
before,  quite  satisfied  with  the  new  turn  events  had 
taken. 

One  or  two  people  were  watching  Jane. 

"It  is  very  brave  of  you,"  said  Myra  Ingleby,  at 
length.  "I  would  offer  to  play  your  accompaniment, 
dear ;  but  I  can  only  manage  A  u  clair  de  la  lune,  and 
Three  Blind  Mice,  with  one  finger. " 

"And  /  would  offer  to  play  your  accompaniment, 
dear,"  said  Garth  Dalmain,  "if  you  were  going  to  sing 
Lassen's  Allerseelen,  for  I  play  that  quite  beauti- 
fully with  ten  fingers!  It  is  an  education  only  to  hear 
the  way  I  bring  out  the  tolling  of  the  cemetery  chapel 


Jane  Volunteers  27 

bell  right  through  the  song.  The  poor  thing  with  the 
bunch  of  purple  heather  can  never  get  away  from  it. 
Even  in  the  grand  crescendo,  appassionata,  fortissimo, 
when  they  discover  that  'in  death's  dark  valley  this 
is  Holy  Day,'  I  give  then  no  holiday  from  that  bell. 
I  don't  know  what  it  did  'once  in  May. '  It  tolls  all  the 
time,  with  maddening  persistence,  in  my  accompani- 
ment. But  I  have  seen  The  Rosary,  and  I  dare  not 
face  those  chords.  To  begin  with,  you  start  in  every 
known  flat;  and  before  you  have  gone  far  you  have 
gathered  unto  yourself  handfuls  of  known  and  unknown 
sharps,  to  which  you  cling,  not  daring  to  let  them  go,  lest 
they  should  be  wanted  again  the  next  moment.  Alas,  no ! 
When  it  is  a  question  of  accompanying  The  Rosary,  I 
must  say,  as  the  old  farmer  at  the  tenants'  dinner  the 
other  day  said  to  the  duchess  when  she  pressed  upon  him 
a  third  helping  of  pudding:    'Madam,  I  cannot!'  " 

"Don't  be  silly,  Dal,"  said  Jane.  "You  could  ac- 
company The  Rosary  perfectly,  if  I  wanted  it  done. 
But,  as  it  happens,  I  prefer  accompanying  myself." 

"Ah,"  said  Lady  Ingleby,  sympathetically,  "I  quite 
understand  that.  It  would  be  such  a  relief  all  the  time 
to  know  that  if  things  seemed  going  wrong,  you  could 
stop  the  other  part,  and  give  yourself  the  note." 

The  only  two  real  musicians  present  glanced  at  each 
other,  and  a  gleam  of  amusement  passed  between  them. 

"It  certainly  would  be  useful,  if  necessary, "  said  Jane. 

11 1  would  'stop  the  other  part'  and  'give  you  the 
note,'  "  said  Garth,  demurely. 

"I  am  sure  you  would, "  said  Jane.  "You  are  always 
so  very  kind.  But  I  prefer  to  keep  the  matter  in  my 
own  hands. " 

"You  realise  the  difficulty  of  making  the  voice  carry 
in  a  place  of  that  size  unless  you  can  stand  and  face 


,28  The  Rosary 

the  audience?  "  Garth  Dalmain  spoke  anxiously.  Jane 
was  a  special  friend  of  his,  and  he  had  a  man's  dislike 
of  the  idea  of  his  chum  failing  in  anything,  publicly. 

The  same  quiet  smile  dawned  in  Jane's  eyes  and 
passed  to  her  lips  as  when  she  had  realised  that  her 
aunt  meant  her  to  volunteer  in  Velma's  place.  She 
glanced  around.  Most  of  the  party  had  wandered  off 
in  twos  and  threes,  some  to  the  house,  others  back  to 
the  river.  She  and  Dal  and  Myra  were  practically 
alone.  Her  calm  eyes  were  full  of  quiet  amusement 
as  she  steadfastly  met  the  anxious  look  in  Garth's, 
and  answered  his  question. 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  the  acoustic  properties  of  the 
room  are  very  perfect,  and  I  have  learned  to  throw  my 
voice.  Perhaps  you  may  not  know — in  fact,  how  should 
you  know? — but  I  have  had  the  immense  privilege  of 
studying  with  Madame  Marchesi  in  Paris,  and  of  keep- 
ing up  to  the  mark  since  by  an  occasional  delightful  hour 
with  her  no  less  gifted  daughter  in  London.  So  I  ought 
to  know  all  there  is  to  know  about  the  management  of  a 
voice,  if  I  have  at  all  adequately  availed  myself  of  such 
golden  opportunities. " 

These  quiet  words  were  Greek  to  Myra,  conveying 
no  more  to  her  mind  than  if  Jane  had  said:  "I  have 
been  learning  Tonic  sol-fa.  "  In  fact,  not  quite  so  much, 
seeing  that  Lady  Ingleby  had  herself  once  tried  to  master 
the  Tonic  sol-fa  system  in  order  to  instruct  her  men  and 
maids  in  part-singing.  It  was  at  a  time  when  she  owned 
a  distinctly  musical  household.  The  second  footman 
possessed  a  fine  barytone.  The  butler  could  "do  a 
little  bass, "  which  is  to  say  that,  while  the  other  parts 
soared  to  higher  regions,  he  could  stay  on  the  bottom 
note  if  carefully  placed  there,  and  told  to  remain.  The 
head  housemaid  sang  what  she  called   "seconds";  ia 


Jane  Volunteers  29 

other  words,  she  followed  along,  slightly  behind  the 
trebles  as  regarded  time,  and  a  major  third  below  them 
as  regarded  pitch.  The  housekeeper,  a  large,  dark 
person  with  a  fringe  on  her  upper  lip,  unshaven  and 
unashamed,  produced  a  really  remarkable  effect  by  sing- 
ing the  air  an  octave  below  the  trebles.  Unfortunately 
Lady  Ingleby  was  apt  to  confuse  her  with  the  butler. 
Myra  herself  was  the  first  to  admit  that  she  had  not 
"much  ear";  but  it  was  decidedly  trying,  at  a  moment 
when  she  dared  not  remove  her  eyes  from  the  accom- 
paniment of  Good  King  Wenceslas,  to  have  called  out: 
"Stay  where  you  are,  Jenkins ! "  and  then  find  it  was  Mrs. 
Jarvis  who  had  been  travelling  upwards.  But  when  a 
new  footman,  engaged  by  Lord  Ingleby  with  no  reference 
to  his  musical  gifts,  chanced  to  possess  a  fine  throaty 
tenor,  Myra  felt  she  really  had  material  with  which  great 
things  might  be  accomplished,  and  decided  herself  to 
learn  the  Tonic  sol-fa  system.  She  easily  mastered 
mi,  re,  do,  and  so,  fa,  fa,  mi,  because  these  represented 
the  opening  lines  of  Three  Blind  Mice,  always  a  musical 
landmark  to  Myra.  But  when  it  came  to  the  fugue- 
like intricacies  in  the  theme  of  "They  all  ran  after 
the  farmer's  wife, "  Lady  Ingleby  was  lost  without  the 
words  to  cling  to,  and  gave  up  the  Tonic  sol-fa  system 
in  despair. 

So  the  name  of  the  greatest  teacher  of  singing  of 
this  age  did  not  convey  much  to  Myra's  mind.  But 
Garth  Dalmain  sat  up. 

"I  say!  No  wonder  you  take  it  coolly.  Why,  Velma 
herself  was  a  pupil  of  the  great  madame. " 

"That  is  how  it  happens  that  I  know  her  rather 
well,"  said  Jane.  "I  am  here  to-day  because  I  was  to 
have  played  her  accompaniment. " 

" I  see, "  said  Garth.    "And  now  you  have  to  do  both. 


30  The  Rosary 

*  Land's  sake!*  as  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  says  when  you 
explain  who's  who  at  a  Marlborough  House  garden 
party.  But  you  prefer  playing  other  people's  accom- 
paniments, to  singing  yourself,  don't  you?" 

Jane's  slow  smile  dawned  again. 

"I  prefer  singing,"  she  said,  "but  accompanying  is 
more  useful." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Garth.  "Heaps  of  people  can 
sing  a  little,  but  very  few  can  accompany  properly. " 

"Jane,"  said  Myra,  her  grey  eyes  looking  out 
lazily  from  under  their  long  black  lashes,  "if  you 
have  had  singing  lessons,  and  know  some  songs,  why 
hasn't  the  duchess  turned  you  on  to  sing  to  us  before 
this?" 

"For  a  sad  reason,"  Jane  replied.  "You  know  her 
only  son  died  eight  years  ago?  He  was  such  a  hand- 
some, talented  fellow.  He  and  I  inherited  our  love  of 
music  from  our  grandfather.  My  cousin  got  into  a 
musical  set  at  college,  studied  with  enthusiasm,  and 
wanted  to  take  it  up  professionally.  He  had  promised, 
one  Christmas  vacation,  to  sing  at  a  charity  concert  in 
town,  and  went  out,  when  only  just  recovering  from 
influenza,  to  fulfil  this  engagement.  He  had  a  relapse, 
double  pneumonia  set  in,  and  he  died  in  five  days  from 
heart  failure.  My  poor  aunt  was  frantic  with  grief; 
and  since  then  any  mention  of  my  love  of  music  makes 
her  very  bitter.  I,  too,  wanted  to  take  it  up  profession- 
ally, but  she  put  her  foot  down  heavily.  I  scarcely  ever 
venture  to  sing  or  play  here. " 

"Why  not  elsewhere?"  asked  Garth  Dalmain.  "We 
have  stayed  about  at  the  same  houses,  and  I  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  you  sang." 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Jane  slowly.  "But — music 
means  so  much  to  me.    It  is  a  sort  of  holy  of  holies  in 


Jane  Volunteers  31 

the  tabernacle  of  one's  inner  being.  And  it  is  not  easy 
to  lift  the  veil. " 

"The  veil  will  be  lifted  to-night,"  said  Myra  Ingleby. 

"Yes,"  agreed  Jane,  smiling  a  little  ruefully,  "I 
suppose  it  will." 

"And  we  shall  pass  in,"  said  Garth  Dalmain. 


CHAPTER  V 


CONFIDENCES 


THE  shadows  silently  lengthened  on  the  lawn. 
The    home-coming    rooks    circled    and    cawed 
around  the  tall  elm  trees. 

The  sun-dial  pointed  to  six  o'clock. 

Myra  Ingleby  rose  and  stood  with  the  slanting  rays  of 
the  sun  full  in  her  eyes,  her  arms  stretched  over  her  head. 
The  artist  noted  every  graceful  line  of  her  willowy  figure. 

"Ah,  bah!"  she  yawned.  "It  is  so  perfect  out  here, 
and  I  must  go  in  to  my  maid.  Jane,  be  advised  in  time. 
Do  not  ever  begin  facial  massage.  You  become  a  slave 
to  it,  and  it  takes  up  hours  of  your  day.    Look  at  me." 

They  were  both  looking  already.  Myra  was  worth 
looking  at. 

"For  ordinary  dressing  purposes,  I  need  not  have 
gone  in  until  seven;  and  now  I  must  lose  this  last, 
perfect  hour." 

"What  happens?"  asked  Jane.  "I  know  nothing 
of  the  process." 

"I  can't  go  into  details,"  replied  Lady  Ingleby,  "but 
you  know  how  sweet  I  have  looked  all  day?  Well,  if  I 
did  not  go  to  my  maid  now,  I  should  look  less  sweet  by 
the  end  of  dinner,  and  at  the  close  of  the  evening  I  should 
appear  ten  years  older. " 

"You  would  always  look  sweet,"  said  Jane,  with 
frank  sincerity;  "and  why  mind  looking  the  age  you 
are?" 

"  My  dear,  ' a  man  is  as  old  as  he  feels;  a  woman  is  as 
old  as  she  looks, '  "  quoted  Myra. 

32 


Confidences  33 

"I  feel  just  seven,"  said  Garth. 

"And  you  look  seventeen,"  laughed  Myra. 

"And  I  am  twenty-seven,"  retorted  Garth;  "so  the 
duchess  should  not  call  me  'a  ridiculous  child.'  And, 
dear  lady,  if  curtailing  this  mysterious  process  is  going 
to  make  you  one  whit  less  lovely  to-night,  I  do  beseech 
you  to  hasten  to  your  maid,  or  you  will  spoil  my  whole 
evening.  I  shall  burst  into  tears  at  dinner,  and  the 
duchess  hates  scenes,  as  you  very  well  know!" 

Lady  Ingleby  flapped  him  with  her  garden  hat  as  she 
passed. 

"Be  quiet,  you  ridiculous  child!"  she  said.  "You 
had  no  business  to  listen  to  what  I  was  saying  to  Jane. 
You  shall  paint  me  this  autumn.  And  after  that  I  will 
give  up  facial  massage,  and  go  abroad,  and  come  back 
quite  old." 

She  flung  this  last  threat  over  her  shoulder  as  she 
trailed  away  across  the  lawn. 

"How  lovely  she  is!"  commented  Garth,  gazing  after 
her.  "How  much  of  that  was  true,  do  you  suppose,  Miss 
Champion?" 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea, "  replied  Jane.  "I  am 
completely  ignorant  on  the  subject  of  facial  massage." 

"Not  much,  I  should  think,"  continued  Garth,  "or 
she  would  not  have  told  us. " 

"Ah,  you  are  wrong  there,"  replied  Jane,  quickly. 
"Myra  is  extraordinarily  honest,  and  always  inclined 
to  be  frank  about  herself  and  her  foibles.  She  had  a 
curious  upbringing.  She  is  one  of  a  large  family,  and 
was  always  considered  the  black  sheep,  not  so  much  by 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  as  by  her  mother.  Nothing 
she  was,  or  said,  or  did,  was  ever  right.  When  Lord 
Ingleby  met  her,  and  I  suppose  saw  her  incipient  possi- 
bilities, she  was  a  tall,  gawky  girl,  with  lovely  eyes, 


34  The  Rosary 

a  sweet,  sensitive  mouth,  and  a  what-on-earth-am-I- 
going-to-do-next  expression  on  her  face.  He  was  twenty 
years  her  senior,  but  fell  most  determinedly  in  love  with 
her  and,  though  her  mother  pressed  upon  him  all  her 
other  daughters  in  turn,  he  would  have  Myra  or  nobody. 
When  he  proposed  to  her  it  was  impossible  at  first  to 
make  her  understand  what  he  meant.  His  meaning 
dawned  on  her  at  length,  and  he  was  not  kept  waiting 
long  for  her  answer.  I  have  often  heard  him  tease  her 
about  it.  She  looked  at  him  with  an  adorable  smile,  her 
eyes  brimming  over  with  tears,  and  said:  'Why,  of 
course.  I'll  marry  you  gratefully,  and  I  think  it  is 
perfectly  sweet  of  you  to  like  me.  But  what  a  blow  for 
mamma!'  They  were  married  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible,  and  he  took  her  off  to  Paris,  Italy,  and  Egypt, 
had  six  months  abroad,  and  brought  her  back — this!  I 
was  staying  with  them  once,  and  her  mother  was  also 
there.  We  were  sitting  in  the  morning  room, — no  men, 
just  half  a  dozen  women, — and  her  mother  began  finding 
fault  about  something,  and  said :  '  Has  not  Lord  Ingleby 
often  told  you  of  it? '  Myra  looked  up  in  her  sweet,  lazy 
way  and  answered:  'Dear  mamma,  I  know  it  must 
seem  strange  to  you,  but,  do  you  know,  my  husband 
thinks  everything  I  do  perfect.'  'Your  husband  is  a 
fool!'  snapped  her  mother.  'From  your  point  of  view, 
dear  mamma,'  said  Myra,  sweetly." 

"Old  curmudgeon!"  remarked  Garth.  "Why  are 
people  of  that  sort  allowed  to  be  called  'mothers'? 
We,  who  have  had  tender,  perfect  mothers,  would 
like  to  make  it  law  that  the  other  kind  should  always 
be  called  'she-parents,'  or  'female  progenitors,'  or  any 
other  descriptive  title,  but  not  profane  the  sacred  name 
of  mother!" 

Jane  was  silent.     She  knew  the  beautiful  story  of 


Confidences  35 

Garth's  boyhood  with  his  widowed  mother.  She  knew 
his  passionate  adoration  of  her  sainted  memory.  She 
liked  him  best  when  she  got  a  glimpse  beneath  the 
surface,  and  did  not  wish  to  check  his  mood  by  re- 
minding him  that  she  herself  had  never  even  lisped  that 
name. 

Garth  rose  from  his  chair  and  stretched  his  slim 
figure  in  the  slanting  sun-rays,  much  as  Myra  had  done. 
Jane  looked  at  him.  As  is  often  the  case  with  plain 
people,  great  physical  beauty  appealed  to  her  strongly. 
She  only  allowed  to  that  appeal  its  right  proportion 
in  her  estimation  of  her  friends.  Garth  Dalmain  by 
no  means  came  first  among  her  particular  chums.  He 
was  older  than  most  of  them,  and  yet  in  some  ways 
younger  than  any,  and  his  remarkable  youthfulness  of 
manner  and  exuberance  of  spirits  sometimes  made  him 
appear  foolish  to  Jane,  whose  sense  of  humour  was  of  a 
more  sedate  kind.  But  of  the  absolute  perfection  of  his 
outward  appearance,  there  was  no  question;  and  Jane 
looked  at  him  now,  much  as  his  own  mother  might  have 
looked,  with  honest  admiration  in  her  kind  eyes. 

Garth,  notwithstanding  the  pale  violet  shirt  and  dark 
violet  tie,  was  quite  unconscious  of  his  own  appear- 
ance; and,  dazzled  by  the  golden  sunlight,  was  also 
unconscious  of  Jane's  look. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Miss  Champion!"  he  cried,  boyishly. 
"Isn't  it  nice  that  they  have  all  gone  in?  I  have  been 
wanting  a  good  jaw  with  you.  Really,  when  we  all 
get  together  we  do  drivel  sometimes,  to  keep  the  ball 
rolling.  It  is  like  patting  up  air-balls;  and  very  often 
they  burst,  and  one  realises  that  an  empty,  shrivelled 
little  skin  is  all  that  is  left  after  most  conversations. 
Did  you  ever  buy  air-balls  at  Brighton?  Do  you  re- 
member the  wild  excitement  of  seeing  the  man  coming 


36  The  Rosary 

along  the  parade,  with  a  huge  bunch  of  them — blue, 
green,  red,  white,  and  yellow,  all  shining  in  the  sun? 
And  one  used  to  wonder  how  he  ever  contrived  to  pick 
them  all  up — I  don't  know  how! — and  what  would 
happen  if  he  put  them  all  down.  I  always  knew  exactly 
which  one  I  wanted,  and  it  was  generally  on  a  very 
inside  string  and  took  a  long  time  to  disentangle.  And 
how  maddening  it  was  if  the  grown-ups  grew  tired  of 
waiting,  and  walked  on  with  the  penny.  Only  I  would 
rather  have  had  none,  than  not  have  the  one  on  which  I 
had  fixed  my  heart.    Wouldn't  you?" 

"I  never  bought  air-balls  at  Brighton,"  replied  Jane, 
without  enthusiasm.  Garth  was  feeling  seven  again, 
and  Jane  was  feeling  bored. 

For  once  he  seemed  conscious  of  this.  He  took  his 
coat  from  the  back  of  the  chair  where  he  had  hung  it, 
and  put  it  on. 

"Come  along,  Miss  Champion,"  he  said;  "I  am  so 
tired  of  doing  nothing.  Let  us  go  down  to  the  river 
and  find  a  boat  or  two.  Dinner  is  not  until  eight  o'clock, 
and  I  am  certain  you  can  dress,  even  for  the  role  of 
Velma,  in  half  an  hour.  I  have  known  you  do  it  in  ten 
minutes,  at  a  pinch.  There  is  ample  time  for  me  to  row 
you  within  sight  of  the  minster,  and  we  can  talk  as  we  go. 
Ah,  fancy!  the  grey  old  minster  with  this  sunset  behind 
it,  and  a  field  of  cowslips  in  the  foreground!" 

But  Jane  did  not  rise. 

"My  dear  Dal,"  she  said,  "you  would  not  feel  much 
enthusiasm  for  the  minster  or  the  sunset,  after  you 
had  pulled  my  twelve  stone  odd  up  the  river.  You 
would  drop  exhausted  among  the  cowslips.  Surely 
you  might  know  by  now  that  I  am  not  the  sort  of  person 
to  be  told  off  to  sit  in  the  stern  of  a  tiny  skiff  and  steer. 
If  I  am  in  a  boat,  I  like  to  row;  and  if  I  row,  I  prefer 


Confidences  37 

rowing  stroke.  But  I  do  not  want  to  row  now,  because 
I  have  been  playing  golf  the  whole  afternoon.  And  you 
know  perfectly  well  it  would  be  no  pleasure  to  you  to 
have  to  gaze  at  me  all  the  way  up  and  all  the  way  down 
the  river;  knowing  all  the  time,  that  I  was  mentally 
criticising  your  stroke  and  marking  the  careless  way  you 
feathered." 

Garth  sat  down,  lay  back  in  his  chair,  with  his  arms 
behind  his  sleek  dark  head,  and  looked  at  her  with  his 
soft  shining  eyes,  just  as  he  had  looked  at  the  duchess. 

"How  cross  you  are,  old  chap,"  he  said,  gently. 
"What  is  the  matter?" 

Jane  laughed  and  held  out  her  hand.  "Oh,  you  dear 
boy!  I  think  you  have  the  sweetest  temper  in  the 
world.  I  won't  be  cross  any  more.  The  truth  is,  I 
hate  the  duchess's  concerts,  and  I  don't  like  being  the 
duchess's  'surprise  packet.'  " 

"I  see,"  said  Garth,  sympathetically.  "But,  that 
being  so,  why  did  you  offer?" 

"Ah,  I  had  to,"  said  Jane.  "Poor  old  dear!  She 
so  rarely  asks  me  anything,  and  her  eyes  besought. 
Don't  you  know  how  one  longs  to  have  something  to 
do  for  some  one  who  belongs  to  one?  I  would  black 
her  boots  if  she  wished  it.  But  it  is  so  hard  to  stay  here, 
week  after  week,  and  be  kept  at  arm's  length.  This  one 
thing  she  asked  of  me,  and  her  proud  old  eyes  pleaded. 
Could  I  refuse?" 

Garth  was  all  sympathy.  "  No,  dear, "  he  said  thought- 
fully; "of  course  you  couldn't.  And  don't  bother  over 
that  silly  joke  about  the  'surprise  packet.'  You  see, 
you  won't  be  that.  I  have  no  doubt  you  sing  vastly 
better  than  most  of  them,  but  they  will  not  realise  it. 
It  takes  a  Velma  to  make  such  people  as  these  sit  up. 
They  will   think    The  Rosary  a   pretty  song,  and   give 


38  The  Rosary 

you  a  mild  clap,  and  there  the  thing  will  end.    So  don't 
worry. " 

Jane  sat  and  considered  this.  Then:  "Dal,"  she 
said,  "I  do  hate  singing  before  that  sort  of  audience. 
It  is  like  giving  them  your  soul  to  look  at,  and  you  don't 
want  them  to  see  it.  It  seems  indecent.  To  my  mind, 
music  is  the  most  revealing  thing  in  the  world.  I  shiver 
when  I  think  of  that  song,  and  yet  I  daren't  do  less  than 
my  best.  When  the  moment  comes,  I  shall  live  in  the 
song,  and  forget  the  audience.  Let  me  tell  you  a  lesson 
I  once  had  from  Madame  Blanche.  I  was  singing 
Bemberg's  Chant  Hindou,  the  passionate  prayer  of  an 
Indian  woman  to  Brahma.  I  began:  'Brahma!  Dieu 
des  croyants,'  and  sang  it  as  I  might  have  sung  'do,  re, 
mi. '  Brahma  was  nothing  to  me.  '  Stop ! '  cried  Madame 
Blanche  in  her  most  imperious  manner.  'Ah,  vous 
Anglais!  What  are  you  doing?  Brahma,  c'est  un  Dieu! 
He  may  not  be  your  God.  He  may  not  be  my  God. 
But  he  is  somebody's  God.  He  is  the  God  of  the  song. 
Ecoutez!'  And  she  lifted  her  head  and  sang:  'Brahma! 
Dieu  des  croyants!  Maitre  des  cites  saintes!'  with  her 
beautiful  brow  illumined,  and  a  passion  of  religious 
fervour  which  thrilled  one's  soul.  It  was  a  lesson  I 
never  forgot.  I  can  honestly  say  I  have  never  sung  a 
song  tamely,  since." 

"Fine!"  said  Garth  Dalmain.  "I  like  enthusiasm  in 
every  branch  of  art.  I  never  care  to  paint  a  portrait, 
unless  I  adore  the  woman  I  am  painting." 

Jane  smiled.  The  conversation  was  turning  exactly 
the  way  she  had  hoped  eventually  to  lead  it. 

"Dal,  dear,"  she  said,  "you  adore  so  many  in  turn, 
that  we  old  friends,  who  have  your  real  interest  at 
heart,  fear  you  will  never  adore  to  any  definite  purpose. " 

Garth  laughed.     "Oh  bother!"  he  said.     "Are  you 


Confidences  39 

like  all  the  rest?  Do  you  also  think  adoration  and 
admiration  must  necessarily  mean  marriage.  I  should 
have  expected  you  to  take  a  saner  and  more  masculine 
view. 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Jane,  "your  friends  have  de- 
cided that  you  need  a  wife.  You  are  alone  in  the  world. 
You  have  a  lovely  home.  You  are  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
spoiled  by  all  the  silly  women  who  run  after  you.  Of 
course  we  are  perfectly  aware  that  your  wife  must  have 
every  incomparable  beauty  under  the  sun  united  in  her 
own  exquisite  person.  But  each  new  divinity  you  see 
and  paint  apparently  fulfils,  for  the  time  being,  this 
wondrous  ideal ;  and,  perhaps,  if  you  wedded  one,  instead 
of  painting  her,  she  might  continue  permanently  to 
fulfil  it." 

Garth  considered  this  in  silence,  his  level  brows 
knitted.  At  last  he  said:  "Beauty  is  so  much  a  thing 
of  the  surface.  I  see  it,  and  admire  it.  I  desire  it,  and 
paint  it.  When  I  have  painted  it,  I  have  made  it  my 
own,  and  somehow  I  find  I  have  done  with  it.  All  tl  e 
time  I  am  painting  a  woman,  I  am  seeking  for  her  soul. 
I  want  to  express  it  on  my  canvas;  and  do  you  know, 
Miss  Champion,  I  find  that  a  lovely  woman  does  not 
always  have  a  lovely  soul.  " 

Jane  was  silent.  The  last  things  she  wished  to  discuss 
were  other  women's  souls. 

"There  is  just  one  who  seems  to  me  perfect, "  continued 
Garth.  "I  am  to  paint  her  this  autumn.  I  believe  I 
shall  find  her  soul  as  exquisite  as  her  body. " 

"And  she  is — ?"  inquired  Jane. 

"  Lady  Brand.  "1 

"Flower!"  exclaimed  Jane.  "Are  you  so  taken  with 
Flower?" 

"Ah,  she  is  lovely,"  said  Garth,  with  reverent  enthu- 


40  The  Rosary 

siasm.  "It  positively  is  not  right  for  any  one  to  be  so 
absolutely  flawlessly  lovely.  It  makes  me  ache.  Do 
you  know  that  feeling,  Miss  Champion,  of  perfect 
loveliness  making  you  ache?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Jane,  shortly.  "And  I  do  not 
think  other  people's  wives  ought  to  have  that  effect 
upon  you. " 

"My  dear  old  chap,"  exclaimed  Garth,  astonished; 
"it  has  nothing  to  do  with  wives  or  no  wives.  A  wood 
of  bluebells  in  morning  sunshine  would  have  precisely 
the  same  effect.  I  ache  to  paint  her.  When  I  have 
painted  her  and  really  done  justice  to  that  matchless 
loveliness  as  I  see  it,  I  shall  feel  all  right.  At  present  I 
have  only  painted  her  from  memory ;  but  she  is  to  sit  to 
me  in  October. " 

"From  memory?"  questioned  Jane. 
"Yes,  I  paint  a  great  deal  from  memory.  Give  me 
one  look  of  a  certain  kind  at  a  face,  let  me  see  it  at  a 
moment  which  lets  one  penetrate  beneath  the  surface, 
and  I  can  paint  that  face  from  memory  weeks  after. 
Lots  of  my  best  studies  have  been  done  that  way. 
Ah,  the  delight  of  it!  Beauty— the  worship  of  beauty  is 
to  me  a  religion." 

"Rather  a  godless  form  of  religion,"  suggested  Jane. 
"Ah  no,"  said  Garth  reverently.  "All  true  beauty 
comes  from  God,  and  leads  back  to  God.  'Every  good 
gift  and  every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh 
down  from  the  Father  of  lights.'  I  once  met  an  old 
freak  who  said  all  sickness  came  from  the  devil.  I 
never  could  believe  that,  for  my  mother  was  an  invalid 
during  the  last  years  of  her  life,  and  I  can  testify  that 
her  sickness  was  a  blessing  to  many,  and  borne  to  the 
glory  of  God.  But  I  am  convinced  all  true  beauty  is 
God-given,  and  that  is  why  the  worship  of  beauty  is 


Confidences  41 

to  me  a  religion.  Nothing  bad  was  ever  truly  beautiful; 
nothing  good  is  ever  really  ugly. " 

Jane  smiled  as  she  watched  him,  lying  back  in  the 
golden  sunlight,  the  very  personification  of  manly 
beauty.  The  absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness,  either 
for  himself  or  for  her,  which  allowed  him  to  talk  thus 
to  the  plainest  woman  of  his  acquaintance,  held  a  vein  of 
humour  which  diverted  Jane.  It  appealed  to  her  more 
than  buying  coloured  air-balls,  or  screaming  because  the 
duchess  wore  a  mushroom  hat. 

"Then  are  plain  people  to  be  denied  their  share  of 
goodness,  Dal?"  she  asked. 

"Plainness  is  not  ugliness,"  replied  Garth  Dalmain 
simply.  "I  learned  that  when  quite  a  small  boy.  My 
mother  took  me  to  hear  a  famous  preacher.  As  he  sat 
on  the  platform  during  the  preliminaries  he  seemed  to 
me  quite  the  ugliest  man  I  had  ever  seen.  He  reminded 
me  of  a  grotesque  gorilla,  and  I  dreaded  the  moment 
when  he  should  rise  up  and  face  us  and  give  out  a  text. 
It  seemed  to  me  there  ought  to  be  bars  between,  and  that 
we  should  want  to  throw  nuts  and  oranges.  But  when 
he  rose  to  speak,  his  face  was  transfigured.  Goodness 
and  inspiration  shone  from  it,  making  it  as  the  face  of  an 
angel.  I  never  again  thought  him  ugly.  The  beauty  of 
his  soul  shone  through,  transfiguring  his  body.  Child 
though  I  was,  I  could  differentiate  even  then  between 
ugliness  and  plainness.  When  he  sat  down  at  the  close 
of  his  magnificent  sermon,  I  no  longer  thought  him  a 
complicated  form  of  chimpanzee.  I  remembered  the 
divine  halo  of  his  smile.  Of  course  his  actual  plainness 
of  feature  remained.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  face  one 
could  have  wanted  to  live  with,  or  to  have  day  after 
day  opposite  to  one  at  table.  But  then  one  was  not  called 
to  that  sort  of  discipline,  which  would  have  been  martyr- 


42  The  Rosary 

dom  to  me.  And  he  has  always  stood  to  my  mind  since 
as  a  proof  of  the  truth  that  goodness  is  never  ugly ;  and 
that  divine  love  and  aspiration  shining  through  the 
plainest  features  may  redeem  them  temporarily  into 
beauty;  and,  permanently,  into  a  thing  one  loves  to 
remember." 

"I  see,"  said  Jane..  "It  must  have  often  helped  you 
to  a  right  view  to  have  realised  that  so  long  ago.  But 
now  let  us  return  to  the  important  question  of  the 
face  which  you  are  to  have  daily  opposite  you  at  table. 
It  cannot  be  Lady  Brand's,  nor  can  it  be  Myra's;  but, 
you  know,  Dal,  a  very  lovely  one  is  being  suggested  for 
the  position." 

"No  names,  please,"  said  Garth,  quickly.  "I  ob- 
ject to  girls'  names  being  mentioned  in  this  sort  of 
conversation. " 

"Very  well,  dear  boy.  I  understand  and  respect 
your  objection.  You  have  made  her  famous  already 
by  your  impressionist  portrait  of  her,  and  I  hear  you 
are  to  do  a  more  elaborate  picture  'in  the  fall.'  Now, 
Dal,  you  know  you  admire  her  immensely.  She  is 
lovely,  she  is  charming,  she  hails  from  the  land  whose 
women,  when  they  possess  charm,  unite  with  it  a  fresh- 
ness and  a  piquancy  which  place  them  beyond  com- 
pare. In  some  ways  you  are  so  unique  yourself  that 
you  ought  to  have  a  wife  with  a  certain  amount  of 
originality.  Now,  I  hardly  know  how  far  the  opinion 
of  your  friends  would  influence  you  in  such  a  matter, 
but  you  may  like  to  hear  how  fully  they  approve  your 
very  open  allegiance  to — shall  we  say — the  beautiful 
'Stars  and  Stripes'?" 

Garth  Dalmain  took  out  his  cigarette  case,  carefully 
selected  a  cigarette,  and  sat  with  it  between  his  fingers 
in  absorbed  contemplation. 


Confidences  43 

"Smoke,"  said  Jane. 

"Thanks,"  said  Garth.  He  struck  a  match  and 
very  deliberately  lighted  his  cigarette.  As  he  flung 
away  the  vesta  the  breeze  caught  it  and  it  fell  on  the 
lawn,  flaming  brightly.  Garth  sprang  up  and  extin- 
guished it,  then  drew  his  chair  more  exactly  opposite 
to  Jane's  and  lay  back,  smoking  meditatively,  and 
watching  the  little  rings  he  blew,  mount  into  the  cedar 
branches,  expand,  fade,  and  vanish. 

Jane  was  watching  him.  The  varied  and  charac- 
teristic ways  in  which  her  friends  lighted  and  smoked 
their  cigarettes  always  interested  Jane.  There  were 
at  least  a  dozen  young  men  of  whom  she  could  have 
given  the  names  upon  hearing  a  description  of  their 
method.  Also,  she  had  learned  from  Deryck  Brand 
the  value  of  silences  in  an  important  conversation,  and 
the  art  of  not  weakening  a  statement  by  a  postscript. 

At  last  Garth  spoke. 

"I  wonder  why  the  smoke  is  that  lovely  pale  blue  as 
it  curls  up  from  the  cigarette,  and  a  greyish  white  if 
one  blows  it  out. " 

Jane  knew  it  was  because  it  had  become  impregnated 
with  moisture,  but  she  did  not  say  so,  having  no  desire 
to  contribute  her  quota  of  pats  to  this  air-ball,  or  to 
encourage  the  superficial  workings  of  his  mind  just  then. 
She  quietly  awaited  the  response  to  her  appeal  to  his 
deeper  nature  which  she  felt  certain  would  be  forth- 
coming.   Presently  it  came. 

"It  is  awfully  good  of  you,  Miss  Champion,  to  take 
the  trouble  to  think  all  this  and  to  say  it  to  me.  May 
I  prove  my  gratitude  by  explaining  for  once  where  my 
difficulty  lies?  I  have  scarcely  defined  it  to  myself,  and 
yet  I  believe  I  can  express  it  to  you. " 

Another  long  silence.     Garth  smoked  and  pondered. 


44  The  Rosary 

Jane  waited.  It  was  a  very  comprehending,  very  com- 
panionable silence.  Garth  found  himself  parodying  the 
last  lines  of  an  old  sixteenth-century  song: 

"  Then  ever  pray  that  heaven  may  send 
Such  weeds,  such  chairs,  and  such  a  friend. " 

Either  the  cigarette,  or  the  chair,  or  Jane,  or  perhaps 
all  three  combined  were  producing  in  him  a  sublime 
sense  of  calm,  and  rest,  and  well-being;  an  uplifting  of 
spirit  which  made  all  good  things  seem  better;  all  diffi- 
cult things,  easy ;  and  all  ideals,  possible.  The  silence, 
like  the  sunset,  was  golden;  but  at  last  he  broke  it. 

"Two  women — the  only  two  women  who  have  ever 
really  been  in  my  life — form  for  me  a  standard  below 
which  I  cannot  fall, — one,  my  mother,  a  sacred  and  ideal 
memory;  the  other,  old  Margery  Graem,  my  childhood's 
friend  and  nurse,  now  my  housekeeper  and  general 
tender  and  mender.  Her  faithful  heart  and  constant 
remembrance  help  to  keep  me  true  to  the  ideal  of  that 
sweet  presence  which  faded  from  beside  me  when  I  stood 
on  the  threshold  of  manhood.  Margery  lives  at  Castle 
Gleneesh.  When  I  return  home,  the  sight  which  first 
meets  my  eyes  as  the  hall  door  opens  is  old  Margery  in 
her  black  satin  apron,  lawn  kerchief,  and  lavender 
ribbons.  I  always  feel  seven  then,  and  I  always  hug  her. 
You,  Miss  Champion,  don't  like  me  when  I  feel  seven; 
but  Margery  does.  Now,  this  is  what  I  want  you  to 
realise.  When  I  bring  a  bride  to  Gleneesh  and  present 
her  to  Margery,  the  kind  old  eyes  will  try  to  see  nothing 
but  good;  the  faithful  old  heart  will  yearn  to  love  and 
serve.  And  yet  I  shall  know  she  knows  the  standard, 
just  as  I  know  it;  I  shall  know  she  remembers  the  ideal  of 
gentle,  tender,  Christian  womanhood,  just  as  I  remember 
it;  and  I  must  not,  I  dare  not,  fall  short.    Believe  me, 


Confidences  45 

Miss  Champion,  more  than  once,  when  physical  attrac- 
tion has  been  strong,  and  I  have  been  tempted  in  the 
worship  of  the  outward  loveliness  to  disregard  or  forget 
the  essentials, — the  things  which  are  unseen  but  eternal, 
— then,  all  unconscious  of  exercising  any  such  influence, 
old  Margery's  clear  eyes  look  into  mine,  old  Margery's 
mittened  hand  seems  to  rest  upon  my  coat  sleeve,  and 
the  voice  which  has  guided  me  from  infancy  says,  in 
gentle  astonishment : '  Is  this  your  choice,  Master  Garthie, 
to  fill  my  dear  lady's  place? '  No  doubt,  Miss  Champion, 
it  will  seem  almost  absurd  to  you  when  you  think  of  our 
set  and  our  sentiments,  and  the  way  we  racket  round, 
that  I  should  sit  here  on  the  duchess's  lawn  and  confess 
that  I  have  been  held  back  from  proposing  marriage  to 
the  women  I  have  most  admired,  because  of  what  would 
have  been  my  old  nurse's  opinion  of  them !  But  you  must 
remember  her  opinion  is  formed  by  a  memory,  and  that 
memory  is  the  memory  of  my  dead  mother.  Moreover, 
Margery  voices  my  best  self,  and  expresses  my  own 
judgment  when  it  is  not  blinded  by  passion  or  warped 
by  my  worship  of  the  beautiful.  Not  that  Margery 
would  disapprove  of  loveliness ;  in  fact,  she  would  approve 
of  nothing  else  for  me,  I  know  very  well.  But  her 
penetration  rapidly  goes  beneath  the  surface.  Accord- 
ing to  one  of  Paul's  sublime  paradoxes,  she  looks  at  the 
things  that  are  not  seen.  It  seems  queer  that  I  can  tell 
you  all  this,  Miss  Champion,  and  really  it  is  the  first  time 
I  have  actually  formulated  it  in  my  own  mind.  But  I 
think  it  so  extremely  friendly  of  you  to  have  troubled  to 
give  me  good  advice  in  the  matter." 

Garth  Dalmain  ceased  speaking,  and  the  silence  which 
followed  suddenly  assumed  alarming  proportions,  seem- 
ing to  Jane  like  a  high  fence  which  she  was  vainly  trying 
to  scale.    She  found  herself  mentally  rushing  hither  and 


46  The  Rosary 

thither,  seeking  a  gate  or  any  possible  means  of  egress. 
And  still  she  was  confronted  by  the  difficulty  of  replying 
adequately  to  the  totally  unexpected.  And  what  added 
to  her  dumbness  was  the  fact  that  she  was  infinitely 
touched  by  Garth's  confession;  and  when  Jane  was 
deeply  moved  speech  always  became  difficult.  That  this 
young  man — adored  by  all  the  girls  for  his  good  looks  and 
delightful  manners ;  pursued  for  his  extreme  eligibility  by 
mothers  and  chaperons;  famous  already  in  the  world 
of  art;  flattered,  courted,  sought  after  in  society — 
should  calmly  admit  that  the  only  woman  really  left 
in  his  life  was  his  old  nurse,  and  that  her  opinion  and 
expectations  held  him  back  from  a  worldly  or  unwise 
marriage,  touched  Jane  deeply,  even  while  in  her  heart 
she  smiled  at  what  their  set  would  say  could  they  realise 
the  situation.  It  revealed  Garth  in  a  new  light;  and 
suddenly  Jane  understood  him,  as  she  had  not  understood 
him  before. 

And  yet  the  only  reply  she  could  bring  herself  to 
frame  was:  "I  wish  I  knew  old  Margery. " 

Garth's  brown  eyes  flashed  with  pleasure. 

"Ah,  I  wish  you  did,"  he  said.  "And  I  should  like 
you  to  see  Castle  Gleneesh.  You  would  enjoy  the 
view  from  the  terrace,  sheer  into  the  gorge,  and  away 
across  the  purple  hills.  And  I  think  you  would  like 
the  pine  woods  and  the  moor.  I  say,  Miss  Champion, 
why  should  not  I  get  up  a  'best  party'  in  September, 
and  implore  the  duchess  to  come  and  chaperon  it? 
And  then  you  could  come,  and  any  one  else  you  would 
like  asked.  And — and,  perhaps — we  might  ask — the 
beautiful  '  Stars  and  Stripes, '  and  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Parker 
Bangs  of  Chicago;  and  then  we  should  see  what  Margery 
thought  of  her!" 
.     "Delightful!"  said  Jane.    "I  would  come  with  pleas- 


Confidences  47' 

ure.  And  really,  Dal,  I  think  that  girl  has  a  sweet 
nature.  Could  you  do  better?  The  exterior  is  perfect, 
and  surely  the  soul  is  there.  Yes,  ask  us  all,  and  see 
what  happens. " 

"I  will,"  cried  Garth,  delighted.  "And  what  will 
Margery  think  of  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs?" 

"Never  mind,"  said  Jane  decidedly.  "When  you 
marry  the  niece,  the  aunt  goes  back  to  Chicago. " 

"And  I  wish  her  people  were  not  millionaires." 

"That  can't  be  helped,"  said  Jane.  "Americans  are 
so  charming,  that  we  really  must  not  mind  their  money. " 

"I  wish  Miss  Lister  and  her  aunt  were  here,"  re- 
marked Garth.  "But  they  are  to  be  at  Lady  Ingleby's, 
where  I  am  due  next  Tuesday.  Do  you  come  on  there, 
Miss  Champion?" 

"I  do,"  replied  Jane.  "I  go  to  the  Brands  for  a  few 
days  on  Tuesday,  but  I  have  promised  Myra  to  turn 
up  at  Shenstone  for  the  week-end.  I  like  staying  there. 
They  are  such  a  harmonious  couple." 

"Yes,"  said  Garth,  "but  no  one  could  help  being  a 
harmonious  couple,  who  had  married  Lady  Ingleby. " 

"What  grammar!"  laughed  Jane.  "But  I  know  what 
you  mean,  and  I  am  glad  you  think  so  highly  of  Myra. 
She  is  a  dear!  Only  do  make  haste  and  paint  her  and 
get  her  off  your  mind,  so  as  to  be  free  for  Pauline  Lister. " 

The  sun-dial  pointed  to  seven  o'clock.  The  rooks 
had  circled  round  the  elms  and  dropped  contentedly 
into  their  nests. 

"  Let  us  go  in, "  said  Jane,  rising.  "  I  am  glad  we  have 
had  this  talk, "  she  added,  as  he  walked  beside  her  across 
the  lawn. 

"Yes,"  said  Garth.  "Air-balls  weren't  in  it!  It 
was  a  football  this  time — good  solid  leather.  And 
we  each  kicked  one  goal, — a  tie,  you  know.     For  your 


48  The  Rosary 

advice  went  home  to  me,  and  I  think  my  reply  showed 
you  the  true  lie  of  things;  eh,  Miss  Champion?" 

He  was  feeling  seven  again;  but  Jane  saw  him  now 
through  old  Margery's  glasses,  and  it  did  not  annoy  her. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him  with  her  kind,  true 
eyes;  "we  will  consider  it  a  tie,  and  surely  it  will  prove 
a  tie  to  our  friendship.  Thank  you,  Dal,  for  all  you  have 
told  me." 

Arrived  in  her  room,  Jane  found  she  had  half  an  hour 
to  spare  before  dressing.  She  took  out  her  diary.  Her 
conversation  with  Garth  Dalmain  seemed  worth  record- 
ing, particularly  his  story  of  the  preacher  whose  beauty 
of  soul  redeemed  the  ugliness  of  his  body.  She  wrote  it 
down  verbatim. 

Then  she  rang  for  her  maid,  and  dressed  for  dinner 
and  the  concert  which  should  follow. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   VEIL   IS   LIFTED 

MISS  CHAMPION!  Oh,  here  you  are!  Your  turn 
next,  please.  The  last  item  of  the  local  pro- 
gramme is  in  course  of  performance,  after  which  the 
duchess  explains  Velma's  laryngitis — let  us  hope  she  will 
not  call  it  'appendicitis' — and  then  I  usher  you  up. 
Are  you  ready?" 

Garth  Dalmain,  as  master  of  ceremonies,  had  sought 
Jane  Champion  on  the  terrace,  and  stood  before  her 
in  the  soft  light  of  the  hanging  Chinese  lanterns.  The 
crimson  rambler  in  his  button-hole,  and  his  red  silk 
socks,  which  matched  it,  lent  an  artistic  touch  of  colour 
to  the  conventional  black  and  white  of  his  evening 
clothes. 

Jane  looked  up  from  the  comfortable  depths  of  her 
wicker  chair ;  then  smiled  at  his  anxious  face. 

"I  am  ready,"  she  said,  and  rising,  walked  beside 
him.  "Has  it  gone  well?"  she  asked.  "Is  it  a  good 
audience?" 

"Packed,"  replied  Garth,  "and  the  duchess  has  en- 
joyed herself.  It  has  been  funnier  than  usual.  But 
now  comes  the  event  of  the  evening.  I  say,  where  is 
your  score?" 

'Thanks, "  said  Jane.  "I  shall  play  it  from  memory. 
It  obviates  the  bother  of  turning  over. " 

They  passed  into  the  concert-room  and  stood  behind 
screens  and  a  curtain,  close  to  the  half-dozen  steps 
leading,  from  the  side,  up  on  to  the  platform. 

"Oh,  hark  to  the  duchess!"  whispered  Garth.  "'My 
4  49 


50  The  Rosary 

niece,  Jane  Champion,  has  kindly  consented  to  step  into 
the  breach — '  Which  means  that  you  will  have  to  step 
up  on  to  that  platform  in  another  half -minute.  Really 
it  would  be  kinder  to  you  if  she  said  less  about  Velma. 
But  never  mind;  they  are  prepared  to  like  anything. 
There!  Appendicitis!  I  told  you  so.  Poor  Madame 
Velma!  Let  us  hope  it  won't  get  into  the  local  papers. 
Oh,  goodness!  She  is  going  to  enlarge  on  new-fangled 
diseases.  Well,  it  gives  us  a  moment's  breathing  space. 
...  I  say,  Miss  Champion,  I  was  chaffing  this  after- 
noon about  sharps  and  flats.  I  can  play  that  accompani- 
ment for  you  if  you  like.  No?  Well,  just  as  you  think 
best.  But  remember,  it  takes  a  lot  of  voice  to  make  much 
effect  in  this  concert-room,  and  the  place  is  crowded. 
Now — the  duchess  has  done.  Come  on.  Mind  the 
bottom  step.  Hang  it  all!  How  dark  it  is  behind  this 
curtain!" 

Garth  gave  her  his  hand,  and  Jane  mounted  the 
steps  and  passed  into  view  of  the  large  audience  as- 
sembled in  the  Overdene  concert-room.  Her  tall  figure 
Seemed  taller  than  usual  as  she  walked  alone  across  the 
rather  high  platform.  She  wore  a  black  evening  gown  of 
soft  material,  with  old  lace  at  her  bosom  and  one  string 
of  pearls  round  her  neck.  When  she  appeared,  the 
audience  gazed  at  her  and  applauded  doubtfully.  Velma's 
name  on  the  programme  had  raised  great  expectations; 
and  here  was  Miss  Champion,  who  certainly  played  very 
nicely,  but  was  not  supposed  to  be  able  to  sing,  volun- 
teering to  sing  Velma's  song.  A  more  kindly  audience 
would  have  cheered  her  to  the  echo,  voicing  its  generous 
appreciation  of  her  effort,  and  sanguine  expectation  of 
her  success.  This  audience  expressed  its  astonishment, 
in  the  dubiousness  of  its  faint  applause. 

Jane  smiled  at  them  good-naturedly;  sat  down  at 


The  Veil  is  Lifted  51 

the  piano,  a  Bechstein  grand;  glanced  at  the  festoons 
of  white  roses  and  the  cross  of  crimson  ramblers;  then, 
without  further  preliminaries,  struck  the  opening  chord 
and  commenced  to  sing. 

The  deep,  perfect  voice  thrilled  through  the  room. 

A  sudden  breathless  hush  fell  upon  the  audience. 

Each  syllable  penetrated  the  silence,  borne  on  a  tone 
so  tender  and  so  amazingly  sweet,  that  casual  hearts 
stood  still  and  marvelled  at  their  own  emotion ;  and  those 
who  felt  deeply  already,  responded  with  a  yet  deeper 
thrill  to  the  magic  of  that  music. 

"  The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  me; 
I  count  them  over,  ev'ry  one  apart, 
My  rosary, — my  rosary." 

Softly,  thoughtfully,  tenderly,  the  last  two  words 
were  breathed  into  the  silence,  holding  a  world  of 
reminiscence — a  large-hearted  woman's  faithful  re- 
membrance of  tender  moments  in  the  past. 

The  listening  crowd  held  its  breath.  This  was  not 
a  song.  This  was  the  throbbing  of  a  heart;  and  it 
throbbed  in  tones  of  such  sweetness,  that  tears  started 
unbidden. 

Then  the  voice,  which  had  rendered  the  opening  lines 
so  quietly,  rose  in  a  rapid  crescendo  of  quivering  pain. 

"Each  hour  a  pearl,  each  pearl  a  prayer, 
To  still  a  heart  in  absence  wrung; 
I  tell  each  bead  unto  the  end,  and  there — 
A  cross  is  hung!" 

The  last  four  words  were  given  with  a  sudden  power 
and  passion  which  electrified  the  assembly.  In  the 
pause  which  followed,   could  be  heard  the  tension  of 


5«  The  Rosary 

feeling  produced.  But  in  another  moment  the  quiet 
voice  fell  soothingly,  expressing  a  strength  of  endur- 
ance which  would  fail  in  no  crisis,  nor  fear  to  face  any 
depths  of  pain;  yet  gathering  to  itself  a  poignancy  of 
sweetness,  rendered  richer  by  the  discipline  of  suffering. 

"O  memories  that  bless  and  burn! 
O  barren  gain  and  bitter  loss! 
I  kiss  each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn 
To  kiss  the  cross  ...  to  kiss  the  cross. " 

Only  those  who  have  heard  Jane  sing  The  Rosary  can 
possibly  realise  how  she  sang  "I  kiss  each  bead."  The 
lingering  retrospection  in  each  word,  breathed  out  a  love 
so  womanly,  so  beautiful,  so  tender,  that  her  identity 
was  forgotten — even  by  those  in  the  audience  who  knew 
her  best — in  the  magic  of  her  rendering  of  the  song. 

The  accompaniment,  which  opens  with  a  single  chord, 
closes  with  a  single  note. 

Jane  struck  it  softly,  lingeringly;  then  rose,  turned 
from  the  piano,  and  was  leaving  the  platform,  when 
a  sudden  burst  of  wild  applause  broke  from  the  audi- 
ence. Jane  hesitated,  paused,  looked  at  her  aunt's 
guests  as  if  almost  surprised  to  find  them  there.  Then 
the  slow  smile  dawned  in  her  eyes  and  passed  to  her 
lips.  She  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  platform  for  a 
moment,  awkwardly,  almost  shyly;  then  moved  on 
as  men's  voices  began  to  shout  "Encore!  'core!"  and 
left  the  platform  by  the  side  staircase. 

But  there,  behind  the  scenes,  in  the  semi-darkness 
of  screens  and  curtains,  a  fresh  surprise  awaited  Jane, 
more  startling  than  the  enthusiastic  tumult  of  her 
audience. 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase  stood  Garth  Dalmain. 
His  face  was  absolutely  colourless,  and  his  eyes  shone 


The  Veil  is  Lifted  53 

out  from  it  like  burning  stars.  He  remained  motion- 
less until  she  stepped  from  the  last  stair  and  stood 
close  to  him.  Then  with  a  sudden  movement  he  caught 
her  by  the  shoulders  and  turned  her  round. 

"Go  back!"  he  said,  and  the  overmastering  need 
quivering  in  his  voice  drew  Jane's  eyes  to  his  in  mute 
astonishment.  "Go  back  at  once  and  sing  it  all  over 
again,  note  for  note,  word  for  word,  just  as  before. 
Ah,  don't  stand  here  waiting!  Go  back  now!  Go  back 
at  once!    Don't  you  know  that  you  must?" 

Jane  looked  into  those  shining  eyes.  Something  she 
saw  in  them  excused  the  brusque  command  of  his 
tone.  Without  a  word,  she  quietly  mounted  the  steps 
and  walked  across  the  platform  to  the  piano.  People 
were  still  applauding,  and  redoubled  their  demonstra- 
tions of  delight  as  she  appeared;  but  Jane  took  her  seat 
at  the  instrument  without  giving  them  a  thought. 

She  was  experiencing  a  very  curious  and  unusual 
sensation.  Never  before  in  her  whole  life  had  she 
obeyed  a  peremptory  command.  In  her  childhood's 
days,  Fraulein  and  Miss  Jebb  soon  found  out  that  they 
could  only  obtain  their  desires  by  means  of  carefully 
worded  requests,  or  pathetic  appeals  to  her  good  feel- 
ings and  sense  of  right.  An  unreasonable  order,  or  a 
reasonable  one  unexplained,  promptly  met  with  a  point- 
blank  refusal.  And  this  characteristic  still  obtained, 
though  modified  by  time ;  and  even  the  duchess,  as  a  rule, 
said  "please"  to  Jane. 

But  now  a  young  man  with  a  white  face  and  blazing 
eyes  had  unceremoniously  swung  her  round,  ordered 
her  up  the  stairs,  and  commanded  her  to  sing  a  song 
over  again,  note  for  note,  word  for  word,  and  she  was 
meekly  going  to  obey. 

As  she  took  her  seat,  Jane  suddenly  made  up  her 


54  The  Rosary- 

mind  not  to  sing  The  Rosary  again.  She  had  many  finer 
songs  in  her  repertoire.  The  audience  expected  another. 
Why  should  she  disappoint  those  expectations  because  of 
the  imperious  demands  of  a  very  highly  excited  boy? 

She  commenced  the  magnificent  prelude  to  Han- 
del's "Where'er  you  walk,"  but,  as  she  played  it,  her 
sense  of  truth  and  justice  intervened.  She  had  not 
come  back  to  sing  again  at  the  bidding  of  a  highly 
excited  boy,  but  of  a  deeply  moved  man ;  and  his  emotion 
was  of  no  ordinary  kind.  That  Garth  Dalmain  should 
have  been  so  moved  as  to  forget  even  momentarily  his 
punctilious  courtesy  of  manner,  was  the  highest  possible 
tribute  to  her  art  and  to  her  song.  While  she  played 
the  Handel  theme — and  played  it  so  that  a  whole 
orchestra  seemed  marshalled  upon  the  key-board  under 
those  strong,  firm  fingers — she  suddenly  realised,  though 
scarcely  understanding  it,  the  must  of  which  Garth  had 
spoken,  and  made  up  her  mind  to  yield  to  its  necessity. 
So,  when  the  opening  bars  were  ended,  instead  of  singing 
the  grand  song  from  Semele  she  paused  for  a  moment; 
struck  once  more  The  Rosary's  opening  chord;  and  did 
as  Garth  had  bidden  her  to  do. 

"  The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  ire; 
I  count  them  over,  ev'ry  one  apart, 
My  rosary, — my  rosary. 

"Each  hour  a  pearl,  each  pearl  a  prayer, 
To  still  a  heart  in  absence  wrurg; 
I  tell  each  bead  unto  the  end,  aDd  there — 
A  cross  is  hung! 

"O  memories  that  bless  and  bum! 
O  barren  gain  and  bitter  loss! 
I  kiss  each  bead,  and  strive  at  last  to  learn 
To  kiss  the  cross  ...  to  kiss  the  cross. n 


The  Veil  is  Lifted  55 

When  Jane  left  the  platform,  Garth  was  still  standing 
motionless  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  His  face  was  just 
as  white  as  before,  but  his  eyes  had  lost  that  terrible 
look  of  unshed  tears,  which  had  sent  her  back,  at  his 
bidding,  without  a  word  of  question  or  remonstrance. 
A  wonderful  light  now  shone  in  them ;  a  light  of  adoration, 
which  touched  Jane's  heart  because  she  had  never  before 
seen  anything  quite  like  it.  She  smiled  as  she  came 
slowly  down  the  steps,  and  held  out  both  hands  to  him 
with  an  unconscious  movement  of  gracious  friendliness. 
Garth  stepped  close  to  the  bottom  of  the  staircase  and 
took  them  in  his,  while  she  was  still  on  the  step  above 
him. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  speak.  Then  in  a  low  voice, 
vibrant  with  emotion:  "My  God!"  he  said,  "Oh,  my 
God!" 

"Hush,"  said  Jane;  "I  never  like  to  hear  that  name 
spoken  lightly,  Dal." 

"Spoken  lightly!"  he  exclaimed.  "No  speaking 
lightly  would  be  possible  for  me  to-night.  'Every 
perfect  gift  is  from  above.'  When  words  fail  me  to 
speak  of  the  gift,  can  you  wonder  if  I  apostrophise  the 
Giver?" 

Jane  looked  steadily  into  his  shining  eyes,  and  a 
smile  of  pleasure  illumined  her  own.  "So  you  liked 
my  song?"  she  said. 

"Liked — liked  your  song?"  repeated  Garth,  a  shade 
of  perplexity  crossing  his  face.  "  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  liked  your  song. " 

"Then  why  this  nattering  demonstration?"  inquired 
Jane,  laughing. 

"Because,"  said  Garth,  very  low,  "you  lifted  the 
veil,  and  I — I  passed  within." 

He  was  still  holding  her  hands  in  his;  and,  as  he  spoke 


56  The  Rosary 

the  last  two  words,  he  turned  them  gently  over  and, 
bending,  kissed  each  palm  with  an  indescribably  tender 
reverence;  then,  loosing  them,  stood  on  one  side,  and 
Jane  went  <mt  on  to  the  terrace  alone. 


CHAPTER  VII 

GARTH   FINDS   HIS    ROSARY 

JANE  spent  but  a  very  few  minutes  in  the  drawing- 
room  that  evening.  The  fun  in  progress  there 
was  not  to  her  taste,  and  the  praises  heaped  upon  her- 
self annoyed  her.  Also  she  wanted  the  quiet  of  her  own 
room  in  order  to  think  over  that  closing  episode  of  the 
concert,  which  had  taken  place  between  herself  and 
Garth,  behind  the  scenes.  She  did  not  feel  certain 
how  to  take  it.  She  was  conscious  that  it  held  an  ele- 
menc  which  she  could  not  fathom,  and  Garth's  last 
act  had  awakened  in  herself  feelings  which  she  did 
not  understand.  She  extremely  disliked  the  way  in 
which  he  had  kissed  her  hands;  and  yet  he  had  put 
into  the  action  such  a  passion  of  reverent  worship 
that  it  gave  her  a  sense  of  consecration — of  being,  as 
it  were,  set  apart  to  minister  always  to  the  hearts  of 
men  in  that  perfect  gift  of  melody  which  should  uplift 
and  ennoble.  She  could  not  lose  the  sensation  of  the 
impress  of  his  lips  upon  the  palms  of  her  hands.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  left  behind  something  tangible  and  abiding. 
She  caught  herself  looking  at  them  anxiously  once  or 
twice,  and  the  third  time  this  happened  she  determined 
to  go  to  her  room. 

The  duchess  was  at  the  piano,  completely  hidden  from 
view  by  nearly  the  whole  of  her  house  party,  crowd- 
ing round  in  fits  of  delighted  laughter.  Ronnie  had 
just  broken  through  from  the  inmost  circle  to  fetch 
an  antimacassar;  and  Billy,  to  dash  to  the  writing-table 
for  a  sheet  of  note-paper.     Jane  knew  the  note-paper 

57 


58  The  Rosary 

meant  a  clerical  dog  collar,  and  she  concluded  some- 
thing had  been  worn  which  resembled  an  antimacassar. 

She  turned  rather  wearily  and  moved  towards  the 
door.  Quiet  and  unobserved  though  her  retreat  had 
been,  Garth  was  at  the  door  before  her.  She  did  not 
know  how  he  got  there;  for,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the 
room,  she  had  seen  his  sleek  head  close  to  Myra  Ingleby's 
on  the  further  side  of  the  duchess's  crowd.  He  opened 
the  door  and  Jane  passed  out.  She  felt  equally  desirous 
of  saying  two  things  to  him, — either:  "How  dared  you 
behave  in  so  unconventional  a  way?"  or:  "Tell  me  just 
what  you  want  me  to  do,  and  I  will  do  it. " 

She  said  neither. 

Garth  followed  her  into  the  hall,  lighted  a  candle,  and 
threw  the  match  at  Tommy ;  then  handed  her  the  silver 
candlestick.  He  was  looking  absurdly  happy.  Jane 
felt  annoyed  with  him  for  parading  this  gladness,  which 
she  had  unwittingly  caused  and  in  which  she  had  no 
share.  Also  she  felt  she  must  break  this  intimate  silence. 
It  was  saying  so  much  which  ought  not  to  be  said,  since 
it  could  not  be  spoken.  She  took  her  candle  rather 
aggressively  and  turned  upon  the  second  step. 

"Good-night,  Dal,"  she  said.  "And  do  you  know 
that  you  are  missing  the   curate?" 

He  looked  up  at  her.  His  eyes  shone  in  the  light  of 
her  candle. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  am  neither  missing  nor  missed. 
I  was  only  waiting  in  there  until  you  went  up.  I  shall 
not  go  back.  I  am  going  out  into  the  park  now  to 
breathe  in  the  refreshing  coolness  of  the  night  breeze. 
And  I  am  going  to  stand  under  the  oaks  and  tell  my 
beads.  I  did  not  know  I  had  a  rosary,  until  to-night, 
but  I  have — I  have!" 

"  I  should  say  you  have  a  dozen, "  remarked  Jane,  dryly. 


Garth  Finds  his  Rosary  59 

"Then  you  would  be  wrong,"  replied  Garth.  "I 
have  just  one.  But  it  has  many  hours.  I  shall  be  able 
to  call  them  all  to  mind  when  I  get  out  there  alone. 
I  am  going  to  'count  each  pearl.'  " 

"How  about  the  cross?"  asked  Jane. 

"I  have  not  reached  that  yet,"  answered  Garth. 
"There  is  no  cross  to  my  rosary." 

"I  fear  there  is  a  cross  to  every  true  rosary,  Dal," 
said  Jane  gently,  "and  I  also  fear  it  will  go  hard  with 
you  when  you  find  yours. " 

But  Garth  was  confident  and  unafraid. 

"When  I  find  mine,"  he  said,  "I  hope  I  shall  be 
able  to" — Involuntarily  Jane  looked  at  her  hands. 
He  saw  the  look  and  smiled,  though  he  had  the  grace 
to  colour  beneath  his  tan, — "to  face  the  cross,"  he 
said. 

Jane  turned  and  began  to  mount  the  stairs;  but 
Garth  arrested  her  with   an  eager   question. 

"Just  one  moment,  Miss  Champion!  There  is  some- 
thing I  want  to  ask  you.  May  I?  Will  you  think  me 
impertinent,  presuming,  inquisitive?" 

"I  have  no  doubt  I  shall,"  said  Jane.  "But  I  am 
thinking  you  all  sorts  of  unusual  things  to-night;  so 
three  adjectives  more  or  less  will  not  matter  much. 
You  may  ask." 

"Miss  Champion,  have  you  a  rosary?" 

Jane  looked  at  him  blankly ;  then  suddenly  understood 
the  drift  of  his  question. 

"My  dear  boy,  no!"  she  said.  "Thank  goodness, 
I  have  kept  clear  of  'memories  that  bless  and  burn.' 
None  of  these  things  enter  into  my  rational  and  well- 
ordered  life,  and  I  have  no  wish  that  they  should. " 

"Then,"  deliberated  Garth,  "how  came  you  to  sing 
The  Rosary  as  if  each  line  were  your  own  experience; 


60  The  Rosary- 

each  joy  or  pain  a  thing — long  passed,  perhaps — but 
your  own?" 

"Because,"  explained  Jane,  "I  always  live  in  a 
song  when  I  sing  it.  Did  I  not  tell  you  the  lesson  I 
learned  over  the  Chant  Hindoul  Therefore  I  had  a 
rosary  undoubtedly  when  I  was  singing  that  song  to- 
night. But,  apart  from  that,  in  the  sense  you  mean,  no, 
thank  goodness,  I  have  none." 

Garth  mounted  two  steps,  bringing  his  eyes  on  a 
level  with  the  candlestick. 

"But  if  you  cared,"  he  said,  speaking  very  low, 
"that  is  how  you  would  care?  that  is  as  you  would 
feel?" 

Jane  considered.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "if  I  cared,  I 
suppose  I  should  care  just  so,  and  feel  as  I  felt  during 
those  few  minutes." 

"Then  it  was  yon  in  the  song,  although  the  circum- 
stances are  not  yours?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  Jane  replied,  "if  we  can  con- 
sider ourselves  apart  from  our  circumstances.  But 
surely  this  is  rather  an  unprofitable  'air-ball.'  Good- 
night, 'Master  Garthie!'  " 

"I  say,  Miss  Champion!  Just  one  thing  more.  Will 
you  sing  for  me  to-morrow?  Will  you  come  to  the 
music-room  and  sing  all  the  lovely  things  I  want  to 
hear?  And  will  you  let  me  play  a  few  of  your  accompani- 
ments? Ah,  promise  you  will  come.  And  promise  to 
sing  whatever  I  ask,  and  I  won't  bother  you  any  more 
now." 

He  stood  looking  up  at  her,  waiting  for  her  promise, 
with  such  adoration  shining  in  his  eyes  that  Jane  was 
startled  and  more  than  a  little  troubled.  Then  sud- 
denly it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  found  the  key,  and 
she  hastened  to  explain  it  to  herself  and  to  him. 


Garth  Finds  his  Rosary  61 

"Oh,  you  dear  boy!"  she  said.  "What  an  artist 
you  are!  And  how  difficult  it  is  for  us  commonplace, 
matter-of-fact  people  to  understand  the  artistic  tem- 
perament. Here  you  go,  almost  turning  my  steady 
old  head  by  your  rapture  over  what  seemed  to  you 
perfection  of  sound  which  has  reached  you  through  the 
ear;  just  as,  again  and  again,  you  worship  at  the  shrine 
of  perfection  of  form,  which  reaches  you  through  the 
eye.  I  begin  to  understand  how  it  is  you  turn  the  heads 
of  women  when  you  paint  them.  However,  you  are  very 
delightful  in  your  delight,  and  I  want  to  go  up  to  bed. 
So  I  promise  to  sing  all  you  want  and  as  much  as  you 
wish  to-morrow.  Now  keep  your  promise  and  don't 
bother  me  any  more  to-night.  Don't  spend  the  whole 
night  in  the  park,  and  try  not  to  frighten  the  deer.  No, 
I  do  not  need  any  assistance  with  my  candle,  and  I  am 
quite  used  to  going  upstairs  by  myself,  thank  you.  Can't 
you  hear  what  personal  and  appropriate  remarks  Tommy 
is  making  down  there?  Now  do  run  away,  Master 
Garthie,  and  count  your  pearls.  And  if  you  suddenly 
come  upon  a  cross — remember,  the  cross  can,  in  all 
probability,  be  persuaded  to  return  to  Chicago!" 

Jane  was  still  smiling  as  she  entered  her  room  and 
placed  her  candlestick  on  the  dressing-table. 

Overdene  was  lighted  solely  by  lamps  and  candles. 
The  duchess  refused  to  modernise  it  by  the  installation 
of  electric  light.  But  candles  abounded,  and  Jane,  who 
liked  a  brilliant  illumination,  proceeded  to  light  both 
candles  in  the  branches  on  either  side  of  the  dressing- 
table  mirror,  and  in  the  sconces  on  the  wall  beside  the 
mantelpiece,  and  in  the  tall  silver  candlesticks  upon 
the  writing-table.  Then  she  seated  herself  in  a  com- 
fortable arm-chair,  reached  for  her  writing-case,  took 
out  her  diary  and  a  fountain  pen,   and  prepared  to 


62  The  Rosary 

finish  the  day's  entry.  She  wrote,  "Sang  *The  Rosary* 
at  Aunt  'Gina's  concert  in  place  of  Velma,  failed  (laryn- 
gitis)," and  came  to  a  full  stop. 

Somehow  the  scene  with  Garth  was  difficult  to  record, 
and  the  sensations  which  still  remained  therefrom,  abso- 
lutely unwritable.  Jane  sat  and  pondered  the  situation, 
content  to  allow  the  page  to  remain  blank. 

Before  she  rose,  locked  her  book,  and  prepared  for 
rest,  she  had,  to  her  own  satisfaction,  clearly  explained 
the  whole  thing.  Garth's  artistic  temperament  was 
the  basis  of  the  argument;  and,  alas,  the  artistic  tem- 
perament is  not  a  very  firm  foundation,  either  for  a 
theory,  or  for  the  fabric  of  a  destiny.  However,  faute 
de  mieux,  Jane  had  to  accept  it  as  main  factor  in  her 
mental  adjustment,  thus:  This  vibrant  emotion  in 
Garth,  so  strangely  disturbing  to  her  own  solid  calm, 
was  in  no  sense  personal  to  herself,  excepting  in  so  far 
as  her  voice  and  musical  gifts  were  concerned.  Just  as 
the  sight  of  paintable  beauty  crazed  him  with  delight, 
making  him  wild  with  alternate  hope  and  despair  until 
he  obtained  his  wish  and  had  his  canvas  and  his  sitter 
arranged  to  his  liking;  so  now,  his  passion  for  the  beau- 
tiful had  been  awakened,  this  time  through  the  medium, 
not  of  sight,  but  of  sound.  When  she  had  given  him  his 
fill  of  song,  and  allowed  him  to  play  some  of  her  accom- 
paniments, he  would  be  content,  and  that  disquieting 
look  of  adoration  would  pass  from  those  beautiful  brown 
eyes.  Meanwhile  it  was  pleasant  to  look  forward  to 
to-morrow,  though  it  behooved  her  to  remember  that 
all  this  admiration  had  in  it  nothing  personal  to  her- 
self. He  would  have  gone  into  even  greater  raptures 
over  Madame  Blanche,  for  instance,  who  had  the  same 
timbre  of  voice  and  method  of  singing,  combined  with 
a  beauty  of  person  which  delighted  the  eye  the  while 


Garth  Finds  his  Rosary  63 

her  voice  enchanted  the  ear.  Certainly  Garth  must 
see  and  hear  her,  as  music  appeared  to  mean  so  much 
to  him.  Jane  began  planning  this,  and  then  her  mind 
turned  to  Pauline  Lister,  the  lovely  American  girl, 
whose  name  had  been  coupled  with  Garth  Dalmain's 
all  the  season.  Jane  felt  certain  she  was  just  the  wife 
he  needed.  Her  loveliness  would  content  him,  her 
shrewd  common-sense  and  straightforward,  practical 
ways  would  counterbalance  his  somewhat  erratic  tem- 
perament, and  her  adaptability  would  enable  her  to 
suit  herself  to  his  surroundings,  both  in  his  northern 
home  and  amongst  his  large  circle  of  friends  down 
south.  Once  married,  he  would  give  up  raving  about 
Flower  and  Myra,  and  kissing  people's  hands  in  that — 
"absurd  way,"  Jane  was  going  to  say,  but  she  was 
invariably  truthful,  even  in  her  thoughts,  and  substi- 
tuted "extraordinary"  as  the  more  correct  adjective — 
in  that  extraordinary  way. 

She  sat  forward  in  her  chair  with  her  elbows  on  her 
knees,  and  held  her  large  hands  before  her,  palms  up- 
ward, realising  again  the  sensations  of  that  moment. 
Then  she  pulled  herself  up  sharply.  "Jane  Champion, 
don't  be  a  fool!  You  would  wrong  that  dear,  beauty- 
loving  boy,  more  than  you  would  wrong  yourself,  if 
you  took  him  for  one  moment  seriously.  His  homage 
to-night  was  no  more  personal  to  you  than  his  appre- 
ciation of  the  excellent  dinner  was  personal  to  Aunt 
Georgina's  chef.  In  his  enjoyment  of  the  production, 
the  producer  was  included;  but  that  was  all.  Be  grati- 
fied at  the  success  of  your  art,  and  do  not  spoil  that 
success  by  any  absurd  sentimentality.  Now  wash  your 
very  ungainly  hands  and  go  to  bed."  Thus  Jane  to 
herself. 


64  The  Rosary 

And  under  the  oaks,  with  soft  turf  beneath  his  feet, 
stood  Garth  Dalmain,  the  shy  deer  sleeping  around 
unconscious  of  his  presence;  the  planets  above,  hanging 
like  lamps  in  the  deep  purple  of  the  sky.  And  he,  also, 
soliloquised. 

"I  have  found  her,"  he  said,  in  low  tones  of  rapture, 
"the  ideal  woman,  the  crown  of  womanhood,  the  per- 
fect mate  for  the  spirit,  soul,  and  body  of  the  man  who 
can  win  her. — Jane!  Jane!  Ah,  how  blind  I  have  been! 
To  have  known  her  for  years,  and  yet  not  realised  her 
to  be  this.  But  she  lifted  the  veil,  and  I  passed  in. 
Ah  grand,  noble  heart!  She  will  never  be  able  to  draw 
the  veil  again  between  her  soul  and  mine.  And  she  has 
no  rosary.  I  thank  God  for  that.  No  other  man  pos- 
sesses, or  has  ever  possessed,  that  which  I  desire  more 
than  I  ever  desired  anything  upon  this  earth, — Jane's 
love,  Jane's  tenderness.  Ah,  what  will  it  mean?  'I 
count  each  pearl. '  She  will  count  them  some  day — her 
pearls  and  mine.  God  spare  us  the  cross.  Must  there 
be  a  cross  to  every  true  rosary?  Then  God  give  me  the 
heavy  end,  and  may  the  mutual  bearing  of  it  bind  us 
together.  Ah,  those  dear  hands!  Ah,  those  true  stead- 
fast eyes !  .  .  .  Jane ! — Jane !  Surely  it  has  always  been 
Jane,  though  I  did  not  know  it,  blind  fool  that  I  have 
been!  But  one  thing  I  know:  whereas  I  was  blind,  now 
I  see.  And  it  will  always  be  Jane  from  this  night  on- 
ward through  time  and — please  God — into  eternity. " 

The  night  breeze  stirred  his  thick  dark  hair,  and  his 
eyes,  as  he  raised  them,  shone  in  the  starlight. 


And  Jane,  almost  asleep,  was  roused  by  the  tapping 
of  her  blind  against  the  casement,  and  murmured: 
u  Anything  you  wish,  Garth,  just  tell  me,  and  I  will  do 


Garth  Finds  his  Rosary  65 

it."  Then  awakening  suddenly  to  the  consciousness  of 
what  she  had  said,  she  sat  up  in  the  darkness  and  scolded 
herself  furiously.  "Oh,  you  middle-aged  donkey!  You 
call  yourself  staid  and  sensible,  and  a  little  flattery  from 
a  boy  of  whom  you  are  fond  turns  your  head  completely, 
Come  to  your  senses  at  once;  or  leave  Overdene  by  the 
first  train  in  the  morning." 

5 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ADDED   PEARLS 

THE  days  which  followed  were  golden  days  to  Jane. 
There  was  nothing   to  spoil   the  enjoyment  of  a 
very  new  and  strangely  sweet  experience. 

Garth's  manner  the  next  morning  held  none  of  the 
excitement  or  outward  demonstration  which  had  per- 
plexed and  troubled  her  the  evening  before.  He  was 
very  quiet,  and  seemed  to  Jane  older  than  she  had  ever 
known  him.  He  had  very  few  lapses  into  his  seven- 
year-old  mood,  even  with  the  duchess;  and  when  some 
one  chaffingly  asked  him  whether  he  was  practising 
the  correct  deportment  of  a  soon-to-be-married  man, 
"Yes,"  said  Garth  quietly,  "I  am." 

"Will  she  be  at  Shenstone?"  inquired  Ronald;  for 
several  of  the  duchess's  party  were  due  at  Lady  Ingleby's 
for  the  following  week-end. 

"Yes,"  said  Garth,  "she  will." 

"Oh,  lor'!"  cried  Billy,  dramatically.  "Prithee, 
Benedict,  are  we  to  take  this  seriously?" 

But  Jane  who,  wrapped  in  the  morning  paper,  sat 
near  where  Garth  was  standing,  came  out  from  behind 
it  to  look  up  at  him  and  say,  so  that  only  he  heard  it: 
"Oh,  Dal,  I  am  so  glad!  Did  you  make  up  your  mind 
last  night?" 

"Yes,"  said  Garth,  turning  so  that  he  spoke  to  her 
alone,  "last  night." 

"Did  our  talk  in  the  afternoon  have  something  to  do 
with  it?" 

"No,  nothing  whatever." 

66 


Added  Pearls  67 

"Was  it  The  Rosary?" 

He  hesitated;  then  said,  without  looking  at  her: 
"The  revelation  of  The  Rosary?     Yes." 

To  Jane  his  mood  of  excitement  was  now  fully  ex- 
plained, and  she  could  give  herself  up  freely  to  the 
enjoyment  of  this  new  phase  in  their  friendship,  for 
the  hours  of  music  together  were  a  very  real  delight. 
Garth  was  more  of  a  musician  than  she  had  known, 
and  she  enjoyed  his  clean,  masculine  touch  on  the 
piano,  unblurred  by  slur  or  pedal;  more  delicate  than 
her  own,  where  delicacy  was  required.  What  her  voice  was 
to  him  during  those  wonderful  hours  he  did  not  express 
in  words,  for  after  that  first  evening  he  put  a  firm  re- 
straint upon  his  speech.  Under  the  oaks  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  wait  a  week  before  speaking,  and  he  waited. 

But  the  new  and  strangely  sweet  experience  to  Jane 
was  that  of  being  absolutely  first  to  some  one.  In 
ways  known  only  to  himself  and  to  her  Garth  made  her 
feel  this.  There  was  nothing  for  any  one  else  to  notice, 
and  yet  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  she  never  came 
into  the  room  without  his  being  instantly  conscious 
that  she  was  there;  that  she  never  left  a  room,  with- 
out being  at  once  missed  by  him.  His  attentions  were  so 
unobtrusive  and  tactful  that  no  one  else  realised  them. 
They  called  forth  no  chaff  from  friends  and  no  "Hoity- 
toity!  What  now?"  from  the  duchess.  And  yet  his 
devotion  seemed  always  surrounding  her.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  Jane  was  made  to  feel  herself  first  in  the 
whole  thought  of  another.  It  made  him  seem  strangely 
her  own.  She  took  a  pleasure  and  pride  in  all  he  said, 
and  did,  and  was;  and  in  the  hours  they  spent  together 
in  the  music-room  she  learned  to  know  him  and  to 
understand  that  enthusiastic  beauty-loving,  irresponsible 
nature,  as  she  had  never  understood  it  before. 


68  The  Rosary 

The  days  were  golden,  and  the  parting  at  night  was 
sweet,  because  it  gave  an  added  zest  to  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  in  the  morning.  And  yet  during  these 
golden  days  the  thought  of  love,  in  the  ordinary  sense 
of  the  word,  never  entered  Jane's  mind.  Her  igno- 
rance in  this  matter  arose,  not  so  much  from  inex- 
perience, as  from  too  large  an  experience  of  the  travesty 
of  the  real  thing;  an  experience  which  hindered  her 
from  recognising  love  itself,  now  that  love  in  its  most 
ideal  form  was  drawing  near. 

Jane  had  not  come  through  a  dozen  seasons  without 
receiving  nearly  a  dozen  proposals  of  marriage.  An 
heiress,  independent  of  parents  and  guardians,  of  good 
blood  and  lineage,  a  few  proposals  of  a  certain  type 
were  inevitable.  Middle-aged  men — becoming  bald  and 
grey;  tired  of  racketing  about  town;  with  beautiful 
old  country  places  and  an  unfortunate  lack  of  the 
wherewithal  to  keep  them  up — proposed  to  the  Honour- 
able Jane  Champion  in  a  business-like  way,  and  the 
Honourable  Jane  looked  them  up  and  down,  and  through 
and  through,  until  they  felt  very  cheap,  and  then 
quietly  refused  them,  in  an  equally  business-like  way. 

Two  or  three  nice  boys,  whom  she  had  pulled  out  of 
scrapes  and  set  on  their  feet  again  after  hopeless  croppers, 
had  thought,  in  a  wave  of  maudlin  gratitude,  how  good 
it  would  be  for  a  fellow  always  to  have  her  at  hand  to 
keep  him  straight  and  tell  him  what  he  ought  to  do, 
don't  you  know?  and — er — well,  yes — pay  his  debts, 
and  be  a  sort  of  mother-who-doesn't  scold  kind  of 
person  to  him,;  and  had  caught  hold  of  her  kind  hand, 
and  implored  her  to  marry  them.  Jane  had  slapped  them 
if  they  ventured  to  touch  her,  and  recommended  them 
not  to  be  silly. 

One  solemn  proposal  she  had  had  quite  lately  from 


Added  Pearls  69 

the  bachelor  rector  of  a  parish  adjoining  Overdene.  He 
had  often  inflicted  wearisome  conversations  upon  her, 
and  when  he  called,  intending  to  put  the  momentous 
question,  Jane,  who  was  sitting  at  her  writing-table 
in  the  Overdene  drawing-room,  did  not  see  any  occa- 
sion to  move  from  it.  If  the  rector  became  too  prosy, 
she  could  surreptitiously  finish  a  few  notes.  He  sank 
into  a  deep  arm-chair  close  to  the  writing-table,  crossed 
his  somewhat  bandy  legs  one  over  the  other,  made  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  meet  with  unctuous  accuracy,  and 
intoned  the  opening  sentences  of  his  proposition.  Jane, 
sharpening  pencils  and  sorting  nibs,  apparently  only 
caught  the  drift  of  what  he  was  saying,  for  when  he  had 
chanted  the  phrase,  "  Not  alone  from  selfish  motives,  my 
dear  Miss  Champion;  but  for  the  good  of  my  parish, 
for  the  welfare  of  my  flock,  for  the  advancement  of 
the  work  of  the  church  in  our  midst,"  Jane  opened  a 
despatch-box  and  drew  out  her  cheque-book. 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  subscribe,  Mr.  Bilberry,"  she 
said.  "Is  it  for  a  font,  a  pulpit,  new  hymn-books,  or 
what?" 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  the  rector  tremulously,  "you 
misunderstand  me.    My  desire  is  to  lead  you  to  the  altar. " 

"Dear  Mr.  Bilberry,"  said  Jane  Champion,  "that 
would  be  quite  unnecessary.  From  any  part  of  your 
church  the  fact  that  you  need  a  new  altar-cloth  is 
absolutely  patent  to  all  comers.  I  will,  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,  give  you  a  cheque  for  ten  pounds  towards  it. 
I  have  attended  your  church  rather  often  lately  because 
I  enjoy  a  long,  quiet  walk  by  myself  through  the  woods. 
And  now  I  am  sure  you  would  like  to  see  my  aunt  before 
you  go.  She  is  in  the  aviary,  feeding  her  foreign  birds. 
If  you  go  out  by  that  window  and  pass  along  the  terrace 
to  your  left,  you  will  find  the  aviary  and  the  duchess. 


70  The  Rosary 

I  would  suggest  the  advisability  of  not  mentioning  this 
conversation  to  my  aunt.  She  does  not  approve  of 
elaborate  altar-cloths,  and  would  scold  us  both,  and 
insist  on  the  money  being  spent  in  providing  boots  for 
the  school  children.  No,  please  do  not  thank  me.  I  am 
really  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  helping  on  your  excellent 
work  in  this  neighbourhood. " 

Jane  wondered  once  or  twice  whether  the  cheque 
would  be  cashed.  She  would  have  liked  to  receive  it 
back  by  post,  torn  in  half;  with  a  few  wrathful  lines 
of  manly  indignation.  But  when  it  returned  to  her 
in  due  course  from  her  bankers,  it  was  indorsed 
P.  Bilberry,  in  a  neat  scholarly  hand,  without  even  a 
dash  of  indignation  beneath  it;  and  she  threw  it  into 
the  waste-paper  basket,  with  rather  a  bitter  smile. 

These  were  Jane's  experiences  of  offers  of  marriage. 
She  had  never  been  loved  for  her  own  sake;  she  had 
never  felt  herself  really  first  in  the  heart  and  life  of 
another.  And  now,  when  the  adoring  love  of  a  man's 
whole  being  was  tenderly,  cautiously  beginning  to 
surround  and  envelop  her,  she  did  not  recognise  the 
reason  of  her  happiness  or  of  his  devotion.  She  con- 
sidered him  the  avowed  lover  of  another  woman, 
with  whose  youth  and  loveliness  she  would  not  have 
dreamed  of  competing;  and  she  regarded  this  closeness 
of  intimacy  between  herself  and  Garth  as  a  develop- 
ment of  a  friendship  more  beautiful  than  she  had 
hitherto  considered  possible. 

Thus  matters  stood  when  Tuesday  arrived  and  the 
Overdene  party  broke  up.  Jane  went  to  town  to  spend 
a  couple  of  days  with  the  Brands.  Garth  went  straight 
to  Shenstone,  where  he  had  been  asked  expressly  to 
meet  Miss  Lister  and  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs. 
Jane  was  due  at  Shenstone  on  Friday  for  the  week-end. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LADY   INGLEBY'S   HOUSE   PARTY 

AS  Jane  took  her  seat  and  the  train  moved  out  of 
the  London  terminus  she  leaned  back  in  her  corner 
with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  Somehow  these  days  in 
town  had  seemed  insufferably  long.  Jane  reviewed  them 
thoughtfully,  and  sought  the  reason.  They  had  been 
filled  with  interests  and  engagements;  and  the  very  fact 
of  being  in  town,  as  a  rule,  contented  her.  Why  had  she 
felt  so  restless  and  dissatisfied  and  lonely? 

From  force  of  habit  she  had  just  stopped  at  the  rail- 
way book-stall  for  her  usual  pile  of  literature.  Her 
friends  always  said  Jane  could  not  go  even  the  shortest 
journey  without  at  least  half  a  dozen  papers.  But 
now  they  lay  unheeded  on  the  seat  in  front  of  her.  Jane 
was  considering  her  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  and  Thurs- 
day, and  wondering  why  they  had  merely  been  weary 
stepping-stones  to  Friday.  And  here  was  Friday  at 
last,  and  once  in  the  train  en  route  for  Shenstone,  she 
began  to  feel  happy  and  exhilarated.  What  had  been 
the  matter  with  these  three  days?  Flower  had  been 
charming;  Deryck,  his  own  friendly,  interesting  self; 
little  Dicky,  delightful;  and  Baby  Blossom,  as 
sweet  as  only  Baby  Blossom  could  be.  What  was 
amiss? 

"I  know,"  said  Jane.  "Of  course!  Why  did  I  not 
realise  it  before?  I  had  too  much  music  during  those 
last  days  at  Overdene;  and  such  music!  I  have  been 
suffering  from  a  surfeit  of  music,  and  the  miss  of  it  has 
given  me  this  blank  feeling  of  loneliness.     No  doubt 

7i 


72  The  Rosary 

we  shall  have  plenty  at  Myra's,  and  Dal  will  be  there 
to  clamour  for  it  if  Myra  fails  to  suggest  it. " 

With  a  happy  little  smile  of  pleasurable  anticipation, 
Jane  took  up  the  Spectator,  and  was  soon  absorbed  in 
an  article  on  the  South  African  problem. 

Myra  met  her  at  the  station,  driving  ponies  tandem. 
A  light  cart  was  also  there  for  the  maid  and  baggage; 
and,  without  losing  a  moment,  Jane  and  her  hostess 
were  off  along  the  country  lane  at  a  brisk  trot. 

The  fields  and  woods  were  an  exquisite  restful  green 
in  the  afternoon  sunshine.  Wild  roses  clustered  in  the 
hedges.  The  last  loads  of  hay  were  being  carted  in. 
There  was  an  ecstasy  in  the  songs  of  the  birds  and  a 
transporting  sense  of  sweetness  about  all  the  sights  and 
scents  of  the  country,  such  as  Jane  had  never  experienced 
so  vividly  before.  She  drew  a  deep  breath  and  exclaimed, 
almost  involuntarily :  ' '  Ah  litis  good  to  be  here ! ' ' 

"You  dear!"  said  Lady  Ingleby,  twirling  her  whip 
and  nodding  in  gracious  response  to  respectful  salutes 
from  the  hay-field.  "It  is  a  comfort  to  have  you!  I 
always  feel  you  are  like  the  bass  of  a  tune — something 
so  solid  and  satisfactory  and  beneath  one  in  case  of  a 
crisis.  I  hate  crises.  They  are  so  tiring.  As  I  say: 
Why  can't  things  always  go  on  as  they  are?  They  are 
as  they  were,  and  they  were  as  they  will  be,  if  only 
people  wouldn't  bother.  However,  I  am  certain  nothing 
could  go  far  wrong  when  you  are  anywhere  near. " 

Myra  flicked  the  leader,  who  was  inclined  to  "sugar, " 
and  they  flew  along  between  the  high  hedges,  brushing 
lightly  against  overhanging  masses  of  honeysuckle  and 
wild  clematis.  Jane  snatched  a  spray  of  the  clematis, 
in  passing.  "'Traveller's  Joy,'"  she  said,  with  that 
same  quiet  smile  of  glad  anticipation,  and  put  the  white 
blossom  in  her  buttonhole. 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         73 

"Well,"  continued  Lady  Ingleby,  "my  house  party 
is  going  on  quite  satisfactorily.  Oh,  and,  Jane,  there 
seems  no  doubt  about  Dal.  How  pleased  I  shall  be  if  it 
comes  off  under  my  wing!  The  American  girl  is  simply 
exquisite,  and  so  vivacious  and  charming.  And  Dal 
has  quite  given  up  being  silly — not  that  I  ever  thought 
him  silly,  but  I  know  you  did — and  is  very  quiet  and 
pensive ;  really  were  it  any  one  but  he,  one  would  almost 
say  'dull.'  And  they  roam  about  together  in  the  most 
approved  fashion.  I  try  to  get  the  aunt  to  make  all  her 
remarks  to  me.  I  am  so  afraid  of  her  putting  Dal  off. 
He  is  so  fastidious.  I  have  promised  Billy  anything, 
up  to  the  half  of  my  kingdom,  if  he  will  sit  at  the  feet  of 
Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  and  listen  to  her  wisdom,  answer  her 
questions,  and  keep  her  away  from  Dal.  Billy  is  being 
so  abjectly  devoted  in  his  attentions  to  Mrs.  Parker 
Bangs  that  I  begin  to  have  fears  lest  he  intends  asking 
me  to  kiss  him;  in  which  case  I  shall  hand  him  over  to 
you  to  chastise.  You  manage  these  boys  so  splendidly. 
I  fully  believe  Dal  will  propose  to  Pauline  Lister  to- 
night. I  can't  imagine  why  he  didn't  last  night.  There 
was  a  most  perfect  moon,  and  they  went  on  the  lake. 
What  more  could  Dal  want? — a  lake,  and  a  moon,  and 
that  lovely  girl!  Billy  took  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  in  a 
double  canoe  and  nearly  upset  her  through  laughing 
so  much  at  the  things  she  said  about  having  to  sit  flat 
on  the  bottom.  But  he  paddled  her  off  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  lake  from  Dal  and  her  niece,  which  was  all 
we  wanted.  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  asked  me  afterwards 
whether  Billy  is  a  widower.  Now  what  do  you  suppose 
she  meant  by  that?" 

"I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  said  Jane.  "But  I 
am  delighted  to  hear  about  Dal  and  Miss  Lister.  She 
is  just  the  girl  for  him,  and  she  will  soon  adapt  herself 


74  The  Rosary 

to  his  ways  and  needs.    Besides,  Dal  must  have  flawless 
loveliness,  and  really  he  gets  it  there. " 

"He  does  indeed,"  said  Myra.  "You  should  have 
seen  her  last  night,  in  white  satin,  with  wild  roses  in 
her  hair.  I  cannot  imagine  why  Dal  did  not  rave. 
But  perhaps  it  is  a  good  sign  that  he  should  take  things 
more  quietly.    I  suppose  he  is  making  up  his  mind. " 

"No,"  said  Jane.  "I  believe  he  did  that  at  Over- 
dene.  But  it  means  a  lot  to  him.  He  takes  marriage 
very  seriously.    Whom  have  you  at  Shenstone?" 

Lady  Ingleby  told  off  a  list  of  names.  Jane  knew 
them  all. 

"Delightful!"  she  said.  "Oh!  how  glad  I  am  to  be 
here!  London  has  been  so  hot  and  so  dull.  I  never 
thought  it  hot  or  dull  before.  I  feel  a  renegade.  Ah! 
there  is  the  lovely  little  church!  I  want  to  hear  the 
new  organ.  I  was  glad  your  nice  parson  remembered 
me  and  let  me  have  a  share  in  it.  Has  it  two  manuals 
or  three?" 

"Half  a  dozen  I  think,"  said  Lady  Ingleby,  "and 
you  work  them  up  and  down  with  your  feet.  But  I 
judged  it  wiser  to  leave  them  alone  when  I  played 
for  the  children's  service  one  Sunday.  You  never 
know  quite  what  will  happen  if  you  touch  those 
mechanical  affairs." 

"  Don't  you  mean  the  composition  pedals?"  suggested 
Jane. 

"I  dare  say  I  do,"  said  Myra  placidly.  "Those 
things  underneath,  like  foot-rests,  which  startle  you 
horribly  if  you  accidentally  kick  them. " 

Jane  smiled  at  the  thought  of  how  Garth  would  throw 
back  his  head  and  shout,  if  she  told  him  of  this  conversa- 
tion. Lady  Ingleby's  musical  remarks  always  amused 
her  friends. 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         75 

They  passed  the  village  church  on  the  green,  ivy- 
clad,  picturesque,  and,  half  a  minute  later,  swerved  in 
at  the  park  gates.  Myra  saw  Jane  glance  at  the  gate- 
post they  had  just  shaved,  and  laughed.  "A  miss  is  as 
good  as  a  mile,"  she  said,  as  they  dashed  up  the  long 
drive  between  the  elms,  "as  I  told  dear  mamma  when 
she  expostulated  wrathfully  with  me  for  what  she 
called  my  'furious  driving'  the  other  day.  By  the 
way,  Jane,  dear  mamma  has  been  quite  cordial  lately. 
By  the  time  I  am  seventy  and  she  is  ninety-eight  I 
think  she  will  begin  to  be  almost  fond  of  me.  Here 
we  are.  Do  notice  Lawson.  He  is  new,  and  such  a 
nice  man.  He  sings  so  well,  and  plays  the  concertina 
a  little,  and  teaches  in  the  Sunday-school,  and  speaks 
really  quite  excellently  at  temperance  meetings.  He 
is  extremely  fond  of  mowing  the  lawns,  and  my  maid 
tells  me  he  is  studying  French  with  her.  The  only 
thing  he  seems  really  incapable  of  being,  is  an  efficient 
butler;  which  is  so  unfortunate,  as  I  like  him  far  too 
well  ever  to  part  with  him.  Michael  says  I  have  a  per- 
fectly fatal  habit  of  liking  people,  and  of  encouraging 
them  to  do  the  things  they  do  well  and  enjoy  doing, 
instead  of  the  things  they  were  engaged  to  do.  I  sup- 
pose I  have;  but  I  do  like  my  household  to  be  happy." 

They  alighted,  and  Myra  trailed  into  the  hall  with  a 
lazy  grace  which  gave  no  indication  of  the  masterly 
way  she  had  handled  her  ponies,  but  rather  suggested 
stepping  from  a  comfortable  seat  in  a  barouche.  Jane 
looked  with  interest  at  the  man-servant  who  came 
forward  and  deftly  assisted  them.  He  had  not  quite 
the  air  of  a  butler  but  neither  could  she  imagine  him 
playing  a  concertina  or  haranguing  a  temperance  meeting 
and  he  acquitted  himself  quite  creditably. 

"Oh,  that  was  not  Lawson,"  explained  Myra,  as  she 


76  The  Rosary- 

led  the  way  upstairs.  "I  had  forgotten.  He  had  to  go 
to  the  vicarage  this  afternoon  to  see  the  vicar  about  a 
'service  of  song'  they  are  getting  up.  That  was  Tom, 
but  we  call  him  'Jephson'  in  the  house.  He  was  one  of 
Michael's  stud  grooms,  but  he  is  engaged  to  one  of  the 
housemaids,  and  I  found  he  so  very  much  preferred 
being  in  the  house,  so  I  have  arranged  for  him  to  under- 
study Lawson,  and  he  is  growing  side  whiskers.  I  shall 
have  to  break  it  to  Michael  on  his  return  from  Norway. 
This  way,  Jane.  We  have  put  you  in  the  Magnolia 
room.  I  knew  you  would  enjoy  the  view  of  the  lake. 
Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  a  tennis  tournament  is  in  pro- 
gress. I  must  hasten  to  the  courts.  Tea  will  be  going  on 
there,  under  the  chestnuts.  Dal  and  Ronnie  are  to  play 
the  final  for  the  men's  singles.  It  ought  to  be  a  fine 
match.  It  was  to  come  on  at  about  half-past  four. 
Don't  wait  to  do  any  changings.  Your  maid  and  your 
luggage  can't  be  here  just  yet. " 

"Thanks,"  said  Jane;  "I  always  travel  in  country 
clothes,  and  have  done  so  to-day,  as  you  see.  I  will 
just  get  rid  of  the  railway  dust,  and  follow  you. " 

Ten  minutes  later,  guided  by  sounds  of  cheering  and 
laughter,  Jane  made  her  way  through  the  shrubbery 
to  the  tennis  lawns.  The  whole  of  Lady  Ingleby's 
house  party  was  assembled  there,  forming  a  pictur- 
esque group  under  the  white  and  scarlet  chestnut-trees. 
Beyond,  on  the  beautifully  kept  turf  of  the  court,  an 
exciting  set  was  in  progress.  As  she  approached,  Jane 
could  distinguish  Garth's  slim,  agile  figure,  in  white 
flannels  and  the  violet  shirt;  and  young  Ronnie,  huge 
and  powerful,  trusting  to  the  terrific  force  of  his  cuts 
and  drives  to  counterbalance  Garth's  keener  eye  and 
swifter  turn  of  wrist. 

It  was  a  fine  game.     Garth  had  won  the  first  set 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party  77 

by  six  to  four,  and  now  the  score  stood  at  five  to  four 
in  Ronnie's  favour;  but  this  game  was  Garth's  service, 
and  he  was  almost  certain  to  win  it.  The  score  would 
then  be  "games  all." 

Jane  walked  along  the  line  of  garden  chairs  to  where 
she  saw  a  vacant  one  near  Myra.  She  was  greeted  with 
delight,  but  hurriedly,  by  the  eager  watchers  of  the 
game. 

Suddenly  a  howl  went  up.  Garth  had  made  two 
faults. 

Jane  found  her  chair,  and  turned  her  attention  to 
the  game.  Almost  instantly  shrieks  of  astonishment 
and  surprise  again  arose.  Garth  had  served  into  the 
net  and  over  the  line.    Game  and  set  were  Ronnie's. 

"One  all,"  remarked  Billy.  "Well!  I  never  saw 
Dal  do  that  before.  However,  it  gives  us  the  bliss  of 
watching  another  set.  They  are  splendidly  matched. 
Dal  is  lightning,  and  Ronnie  thunder." 

The  players  crossed  over,  Garth  rather  white  be- 
neath his  tan.  He  was  beyond  words  vexed  with  him- 
self for  failing  in  his  service,  at  that  critical  juncture. 
Not  that  he  minded  losing  the  set;  but  it  seemed  to 
him  it  must  be  patent  to  the  whole  crowd,  that  it  was 
the  sight,  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye,  of  a  tall  grey  figure 
moving  quietly  along  the  line  of  chairs,  which  for  a 
moment  or  two  set  earth  and  sky  whirling,  and  made  a 
confused  blur  of  net  and  lines.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
only  one  of  the  onlookers  connected  Garth's  loss  of  the 
game  with  Jane's  arrival,  and  she  was  the  lovely  girl, 
seated  exactly  opposite  the  net,  with  whom  he  exchanged 
a  smile  and  a  word  as  he  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the 
court. 

The  last  set  proved  the  most  exciting  of  the  three. 
Nine  hard-fought  games,  five  to  Garth,  four  to  Ronnie. 


78  The  Rosary 

And  now  Ronnie  was  serving,  and  righting  hard  to 
make  it  games-all.  Over  and  over  enthusiastic  parti- 
sans of  both  shouted  "Deuce!"  and  then  when  Garth 
had  won  the  "vantage,"  a  slashing  over-hand  service 
from  Ronnie  beat  him,  and  it  was  "deuce"  again. 

"Don't  it  make  one  giddy?"  said  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs 
to  Billy,  who  reclined  on  the  sward  at  her  feet.  "I 
should  say  it  has  gone  on  long  enough.  And  they  must 
both  be  wanting  their  tea.  It  would  have  been  kind 
in  Mr.  Dalmain  to  have  let  that  ball  pass,  anyway. " 

"Yes,  wouldn't  it?"  said  Billy  earnestly.  "But  you 
see,  Dal,  is  not  naturally  kind.  Now,  if  I  had  been  play- 
ing against  Ronnie,  I  should  have  let  those  over-hand 
balls  of  his  pass  long  ago. " 

"I  am  sure  you  would,"  said  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs, 
approvingly ;  while  Jane  leaned  over,  at  Myra's  request, 
and  pinched  Billy. 

Slash  went  Ronnie's  racket.  "Deuce!  deuce!'* 
shouted  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"They  shouldn't  say  that,"  remarked  Mrs.  Parker 
Bangs,  "even  if  they  are  mad  about  it." 

Billy  hugged  his  knees,  delightedly;  looking  up  at  her 
with  an  expression  of  seraphic  innocence. 

"No.  Isn't  it  sad?"  he  murmured.  "I  never  say 
naughty  words  when  I  play.  I  always  say  'Game 
love. '    It  sounds  so  much  nicer,  I  think. " 

Jane  pinched  again,  but  Billy's  rapt  gaze  at  Mrs. 
Parker   Bangs  continued. 

"Billy,"  said  Myra  sternly,  "go  into  the  hall  and 
fetch  my  scarlet  sunshade.  Yes,  I  dare  say  you  will 
miss  the  finish,"  she  added  in  a  stern  whisper,  as  he 
leaned  over  her  chair,  remonstrating;  "but  you  richly 
deserve  it." 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind  what  to  ask,  dear  queen, " 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         79 

whispered  Billy  as  he  returned,  breathless,  three  minutes 
later  and  laid  the  parasol  in  Lady  Ingleby's  lap.  "You 
promised  me  anything,  up  to  the  half  of  your  kingdom. 
I  will  have  the  head  of  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  in  a  charger. " 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Billy!"  exclaimed  Jane,  "and  get  out 
of  the  light!  We  missed  that  last  stroke.  What  is  the 
score?" 

Once  again  it  was  Garth's  vantage,  and  once  again 
Ronnie's  arm  swung  high  for  an  untakable  smasher. 

"Play  up,  Dal!"  cried  a  voice,  amid  the  general 
hubbub. 

Garth  knew  that  dear  voice.  He  did  not  look  in  its 
direction,  but  he  smiled.  The  next  moment  his  arm 
shot  out  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  The  ball  touched 
ground  on  Ronnie's  side  of  the  net  and  shot  the  length 
of  the  court  without  rising.  Ronnie's  wild  scoop  at  it 
was  hopeless.    Game  and  set  were  Garth's. 

They  walked  off  the  ground  together,  their  rackets 
under  their  arms,  the  flush  of  a  well-contested  fight 
on  their  handsome  faces.  It  had  been  so  near  a  thing 
that  both  could  sense  the  thrill  of  victory. 

Pauline  Lister  had  been  sitting  with  Garth's  coat  on 
her  lap,  and  his  watch  and  chain  were  in  her  keeping. 
He  paused  a  moment  to  take  them  up  and  receive  her 
congratulations ;  then,  slipping  on  his  coat,  and  pocketing 
his  watch,  came  straight  to  Jane. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Champion?" 

His  eyes  sought  hers  eagerly;  and  the  welcoming 
gladness  he  saw  in  them  filled  him  with  certainty  and 
content.  He  had  missed  her  so  unutterably  during 
these  days.  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  and  Thursday  had 
just  been  weary  stepping-stones  to  Friday.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  one  person's  absence  could  make  so 
vast  a  difference.     And  yet  how  perfect  that  it  should 


So  The  Rosary 

be  so;  and  that  they  should  both  realise  it,  now  the 
day  had  come  when  he  intended  to  tell  her  how  de- 
sperately he  wanted  her  always.  Yes,  that  they  should 
both  realise  it — for  he  felt  certain  Jane  had  also  ex- 
perienced the  blank.  A  thing  so  complete  and  over- 
whelming as  the  miss  of  her  had  been  to  him  could  not 
be  one-sided.  And  how  well  worth  the  experience  of 
these  lonely  days  if  they  had  thereby  learned  something 
of  what  together  meant,  now  the  words  were  to  be  spoken 
which  should  insure  forever  no  more  such  partings. 

All  this  sped  through  Garth's  mind  as  he  greeted 
Jane  with  that  most  commonplace  of  English  greetings, 
the  everlasting  question  which  never  receives  an  answer. 
But  from  Garth,  at  that  moment,  it  did  not  sound 
commonplace  to  Jane,  and  she  answered  it  quite  frankly 
and  fully.  She  wanted  above  all  things  to  tell  him 
exactly  how  she  did;  to  hear  all  about  himself,  and 
compare  notes  on  the  happenings  of  these  three  inter- 
minable days;  and  to  take  up  their  close  comradeship 
again,  exactly  where  it  had  left  off.  Her  hand  went 
home  to  his  with  that  firm  completeness  of  clasp,  which 
always  made  a  hand  shake  with  Jane  such  a  satisfactory 
and  really  friendly  thing. 

"Very  fit,  thank  you,  Dal,"  she  answered.  "At 
least  I  am  every  moment  improving  in  health  and  spirits, 
now  I  have  arrived  here  at  last. " 

Garth  stood  his  racket  against  the  arm  of  her  chair 
and  deposited  himself  full  length  on  the  grass  beside 
her,  leaning  on  his  elbow. 

"Was  anything  wrong  with  London?"  he  asked, 
rather  low,  not  looking  up  at  her,  but  at  the  smart 
brown  shoe,  planted  firmly  on  the  grass  so  near  his 
hand. 

"Nothing  was   wrong   with   London,"   replied   Jane 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         81 

frankly;  "it  was  hot  and  dusty  of  course,  but  delight- 
ful as  usual.  Something  was  wrong  with  me;  and 
you  will  be  ashamed  of  me,  Dal,  if  I  confess  what  it 


was." 


Garth  did  not  look  up,  but  assiduously  picked  little 
blades  of  grass  and  laid  them  in  a  pattern  on  Jane's 
shoe.  This  conversation  would  have  been  exactly  to 
the  point  had  they  been  alone.  But  was  Jane  really 
going  to  announce  to  the  assembled  company,  in  that 
dear,  resonant,  carrying  voice  of  hers,  the  sweet  secret 
of  their  miss  of  one  another? 

"Liver?"  inquired  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  suddenly. 

"Muffins!"  exclaimed  Billy  instantly,  and,  rushing 
for  them,  almost  shot  them  into  her  lap  in  the  haste 
with  which  he  handed  them,  stumbling  headlong  over 
Garth's  legs  at  the  same  moment. 

Jane  stared  at  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  and  her  muffins; 
then  looked  down  at  the  top  of  Garth's  dark  head, 
bent  low  over  the  grass. 

"I  was  dull,"  she  said,  "intolerably  dull.  And  Dal 
always  says  'only  a  dullard  is  dull.'  But  I  diagnosed 
my  dulness  in  the  train  just  now  and  found  it  was 
largely  his  fault.    Do  you  hear,  Dal?" 

Garth  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  her,  realising  in 
that  moment  that  it  was,  after  all,  possible  for  a  com- 
plete and  overwhelming  experience  to  be  one-sided. 
Jane's  calm  grey  eyes  were  full  of  gay  friendliness. 

"It  was  your  fault,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Jane. 

"How  so?"  queried  Garth;  and  though  there  was  a 
deep  flush  on  his  sunburned  face,  his  voice  was  quietly 
interrogative. 

"Because,  during  those  last  days  at  Overdene,  you 
led  me  on  into  a  time  of  musical  dissipation  such  as  I 
had  never  known  before,  and  I  missed  it  to  a  degree 

6 


82  The  Rosary 

which  was  positively  alarming.  I  began  to  fear  for 
the  balance  of  my  well-ordered  mind." 

"Well,"  said  Myra,  coming  out  from  behind  her 
red  parasol,  "you  and  Dal  can  have  orgies  of  music 
here  if  you  want  them.  You  will  find  a  piano  in  the 
drawing-room  and  another  in  the  hall,  and  a  Bechstein 
grand  in  the  billiard-room.  That  is  where  I  hold  the 
practices  for  the  men  and  maids.  I  could  not  make 
up  my  mind  which  makers  I  really  preferred,  Erard, 
Broadwood,  Collard,  or  Bechstein;  so  by  degrees  I 
collected  one  of  each.  And  after  all  I  think  I  play 
best  upon  the  little  cottage  piano  we  had  in  the  school- 
room at  home.  It  stands  in  my  boudoir  now.  I  seem 
more  accustomed  to  its  notes,  or  it  lends  itself  better 
to  my  way  of  playing. " 

"Thank  you,  Myra,"  said  Jane.  "I  fancy  Dal  and  I 
will  like  the  Bechstein." 

"And  if  you  want  something  really  exciting  in  the 
way  of  music,"  continued  Lady  Ingleby,  "you  might 
attend  some  of  the  rehearsals  for  this  'service  of  song' 
they  are  getting  up  in  aid  of  the  organ  deficit  fund. 
I  believe  they  are  attempting  great  things." 

"I  would  sooner  pay  off  the  whole  deficit,  than 
go  within  a  mile  of  a  'service  of  song,'"  said  Jane 
emphatically. 

"Oh,  no,"  put  in  Garth  quickly,  noting  Myra's  look 
of  disappointment.  "It  is  so  good  for  people  to  work 
off  their  own  debts  and  earn  the  things  they  need  in 
their  churches.  And  'services  of  song'  are  delightful 
if  well  done,  as  I  am  sure  this  will  be  if  Lady  Ingleby' s 
people  are  in  it.  Lawson  outlined  it  to  me  this  morning, 
and  hummed  all  the  principal  airs.  It  is  highly  dra- 
matic. Robinson  Crusoe — no,  of  course  not!  What's 
the   beggar's   name? — 'Uncle   Tom's   Cabin'?     Yes,    I 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         83 

knew  it  was  something  black.  Lawson  is  Uncle  Tom, 
and  the  vicar's  small  daughter  is  to  be  little  Eva.  Miss 
Champion,  you  will  walk  down  with  me  to  the  very  next 
rehearsal." 

"Shall  I?"  said  Jane,  unconscious  of  how  tender 
was  the  smile  she  gave  him;  conscious  only  that  in  her 
own  heart  was  the  remembrance  of  the  evening  at 
Overdene  when  she  felt  so  inclined  to  say  to  him:  "Tell 
me  just  what  you  want  me  to  do,  and  I  will  do  it. " 

"Pauline  will  just  love  to  go  with  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Parker  Bangs.    "She  dotes  on  rural  music. " 

"Rubbish,  aunt!"  said  Miss  Lister,  who  had  slipped 
into  an  empty  chair  near  Myra.  "I  agree  with  Miss 
Champion  about  'services  of  song,'  and  I  don't  care 
for  any  music  but  the  best. " 

Jane  turned  to  her  quickly,  with  a  cordial  smile  and 
her  most  friendly  manner.  "Ah,  but  you  must  come," 
she  said.  "We  will  be  victimised  together.  And  per- 
haps Dal  and  Lawson  will  succeed  in  converting  us 
to  the  cult  of  the  '  service  of  song. '  And  anyway  it 
will  be  amusing  to  have  Dal  explain  it  to  us.  He  will 
need  the  courage  of  his  convictions. " 

"Talking  of  something  'really  exciting  in  the  way 
of  music,'  "  said  Pauline  Lister,  "we  had  it  on  board 
when  we  came  over.  There  was  a  nice  friendly  crowd 
on  board  the  Arabic,  and  they  arranged  a  concert 
for  half-past  eight  on  the  Thursday  evening.  We  were 
about  two  hundred  miles  off  the  coast  of  Ireland,  and 
when  we  came  up  from  dinner  we  had  run  into  a  dense 
fog.  At  eight  o'clock  they  started  blowing  the  fog- 
horn every  half-minute,  and  while  the  fog-horn  was 
sounding  you  couldn't  hear  yourself  speak.  However, 
all  the  programmes  were  printed,  and  it  was  our  last 
night  on  board,  sc  they  concluded  to  have  the  concert 


84  The  Rosary 

all  the  same.  Down  we  all  trooped  into  the  saloon,  and 
each  item  of  that  programme  was  punctuated  by  the 
stentorian  boo  of  the  fog-horn  every  thirty  seconds. 
You  never  heard  anything  so  cute  as  the  way  it  came 
in,  right  on  time.  A  man  with  a  deep  bass  voice  sang 
Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep,  and  each  time  he 
reached  the  refrain,  'And  calm  and  peaceful  is  my 
sle-eep, '  boo  went  the  fog-horn,  casting  a  certain  amount 
of  doubt  on  our  expectations  of  peaceful  sleep  that 
night,  anyway.  Then  a  man  with  a  sweet  tenor  sang 
Oft  in  the  Stilly  Night,  and  the  fog-horn  showed  us 
just  how  oft,  namely,  every  thirty  seconds.  But -the 
queerest  effect  of  all  was  when  a  girl  had  to  play  a  piano- 
forte solo.  It  was  something  of  Chopin's,  full  of  runs 
and  trills  and  little  silvery  notes.  She  started  all  right, 
but  when  she  was  half-way  down  the  first  page,  boo 
went  the  fog-horn,  a  longer  blast  than  usual.  We  saw 
her  fingers  flying,  and  the  turning  of  the  page,  but  not  a 
note  could  we  hear;  and  when  the  old  horn  stopped  and 
we  could  hear  the  piano  again,  she  had  reached  a  place 
half-way  down  the  second  page,  and  we  hadn't  heard 
what  led  to  it.  My!  it  was  funny.  That  went  on  all 
through.  She  was  a  plucky  girl  to  stick  to  it.  We  gave 
her  a  good  round  of  applause  when  she  had  finished,  and 
the  fog-horn  joined  in  and  drowned  us.  It  was  the 
queerest  concert  experience  I  ever  had.  But  we  all 
enjoyed  it.  Only  we  didn't  enjoy  that  noise  keeping 
right  on  until  five  o'clock  next  morning. " 

Jane  had  turned  in  her  chair,  and  listened  with 
apprecia  cive  interest  while  the  lovely  American  girl 
talked,  watching,  with  real  delight,  her  exquisite  face 
and  graceful  gestures,  and  thinking  how  Dal  must  en- 
joy looking  at  her  when  she  talked  with  so  much  charm 
and  animation.     She  glanced  down,  trying  to  see  the 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         85 

admiration  in  his  eyes;  but  his  head  was  bent,  and  he 
was  apparently  absorbed  in  the  occupation  of  tracing 
the  broguing  of  her  shoes  with  the  long  stalk  of  a  chestnut 
leaf.  For  a  moment  she  watched  the  slim  brown  hand, 
as  carefully  intent  on  this  useless  task,  as  if  working  on  a 
canvas;  then  she  suddenly  withdrew  her  foot,  feeling 
almost  vexed  with  him  for  his  inattention  and  apparent 
indifference. 

Garth  sat  up  instantly.  "It  must  have  been  awfully 
funny,"  he  said.  "And  how  well  you  told  it.  One 
could  hear  the  fog-horn,  and  see  the  dismayed  faces  of 
the  performers.  Like  an  earthquake,  a  fog-horn  is  the 
sort  of  thing  you  don't  ever  get  used  to.  It  sounds 
worse  every  time.  Let's  each  tell  the  funniest  thing 
we  remember  at  a  concert.  I  once  heard  a  youth  recite 
Tennyson's  Charge  of  Die  Light  Brigade  with  much 
dramatic  action.  But  he  was  extremely  nervous,  and 
got  rather  mixed.  In  describing  the  attitude  of  mind  of 
the  noble  six  hundred,  he  told  us  impressively  that  it 
was 

"  'Theirs  not  to  make  reply; 
Theirs  not  to  do  or  die; 
Theirs  bid  to  reason  why. ' 

The  tone  and  action  were  all  right,  and  I  doubt  whether 
many  of  the  audience  noticed  anything  wrong  with  the 
words." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  Ronald  Ingram,  "of  quite 
the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard.  It  was  at  a  Thanks- 
giving service  when  some  of  our  troops  returned  from 
South  Africa.  The  proceedings  concluded  by  the  singing 
of  the  National  Anthem  right  through.  You  recollect 
how  recently  we  had  had  to  make  the  change  of  pronoun, 
and  how  difficult  it  was  to  remember  not  to  shout; 


86  The  Rosary 

'Send  Her  victorious'?  Well,  there  was  a  fellow  just 
behind  me,  with  a  tremendous  voice,  singing  lustily, 
and  taking  special  pains  to  get  the  pronouns  correct 
throughout.  And  when  he  reached  the  fourth  line  of  the 
second  verse  he  sang  with  loyal  fervour. 

"  '  Confound  his  politics, 

Frustrate  his  knavish  tricks!'  " 

"That  would  amuse  the  King,"  said  Lady  Ingleby. 
"Are  you  sure  it  is  a  fact,  Ronnie?" 

"Positive!  I  could  tell  you  the  church,  and  the 
day,  and  call  a  whole  pewful  of  witnesses  who  were 
convulsed  by  it." 

"Well,  I  shall  tell  his  Majesty  at  the  next  oppor- 
tunity, and  say  you  heard  it.  But  how  about  the 
tennis?  What  comes  next?  Final  for  couples?  Oh, 
yes!  Dal,  you  and  Miss  Lister  play  Colonel  Loraine 
and  Miss  Vermount;  and  I  think  you  ought  to  win 
fairly  easily.  You  two  are  so  well  matched.  Jane,  this 
will  be  worth  watching. " 

"I  am  sure  it  will,"  said  Jane  warmly,  looking  at  the 
two,  who  had  risen  and  stood  together  in  the  evening 
sunlight,  examining  their  rackets  and  discussing  possi- 
ble tactics,  while  awaiting  their  opponents.  They 
made  such  a  radiantly  beautiful  couple;  it  was  as  if 
nature  had  put  her  very  best  and  loveliest  into  every 
detail  of  each.  The  only  fault  which  could  possibly  have 
been  found  with  the  idea  of  them  wedded,  was  that  her 
dark,  slim  beauty  was  so  very  much  just  a  feminine 
edition  of  his,  that  they  might  easily  have  been  taken  for 
brother  and  sister ;  but  this  was  not  a  fault  which  occurred 
to  Jane.  Her  whole-hearted  admiration  of  Pauline 
increased  every  time  she  looked  at  her ;  and  now  she  had 
really  seen  them  together,  she  felt  sure  she  had  given 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         87 

wise  advice  to  Garth,  and  rejoiced  to  know  he  was 
taking  it. 


Later  on,  as  they  strolled  back  to  the  house  together, 
— she  and  Garth  alone, — Jane  said,  simply:  "Dal, 
you  will  not  mind  if  I  ask?    Is  it  settled  yet?" 

"I  mind  nothing  you  ask,"  Garth  replied;  "only  be 
more  explicit.    Is  what  settled  ?  " 

"Are  you  and  Miss  Lister  engaged?" 

"No,"  Garth  answered.  "What  made  you  suppose 
we  should  be?" 

"You  said  at  Overdene  on  Tuesday — Tuesday!  oh! 
doesn't  it  seem  weeks  ago? — you  said  we  were  to  take 
you  seriously." 

"It  seems  years  ago,"  said  Garth;  "and  I  sincerely 
hope  you  will  take  me — seriously.  All  the  same  I 
have  not  proposed  to  Miss  Lister;  and  I  am  anxious 
for  an  undisturbed  talk  with  you  on  the  subject.  Miss 
Champion,  after  dinner  to-night,  when  all  the  games 
and  amusements  are  in  full  swing,  and  we  can  escape 
unobserved,  will  you  come  out  onto  the  terrace  with 
me,  where  I  shall  be  able  to  speak  to  you  without  fear 
of  interruption?  The  moonlight  on  the  lake  is  worth 
seeing  from  the  terrace.  I  spent  an  hour  out  there  last 
night — ah,  no;  you  are  wrong  for  once — I  spent  it  alone, 
when  the  boating  was  over,  and  thought  of — how — 
to-night — we  might  be  talking  there  together. " 

"Certainly  I  will  come,"  said  Jane;  "and  you  must 
feel  free  to  tell  me  anything  you  wish,  and  promise  to 
let  me  advise  or  help  in  any  way  I  can. " 

"I  will  tell  you  everything,"  said  Garth  very  low, 
"and  you  shall  advise  and  help  as  only  you  can." 


88  The  Rosary 

Jane  sat  on  her  window-sill,  enjoying  the  sunset  and 
the  exquisite  view,  and  glad  of  a  quiet  half -hour  before 
she  need  think  of  summoning  her  maid.  Immediately 
below  her  ran  the  terrace,  wide  and  gravelled,  bounded 
by  a  broad  stone  parapet,  behind  which  was  a  drop  of 
eight  or  ten  feet  to  the  old-fashioned  garden,  with  quaint 
box-bordered  flower-beds,  winding  walks,  and  stone 
fountains.  Beyond,  a  stretch  of  smooth  lawn  sloping 
down  to  the  lake,  which  now  lay,  a  silver  mirror,  in  the 
soft  evening  light.  The  stillness  was  so  perfect;  the 
sense  of  peace,  so  all-pervading.  Jane  held  a  book  on 
her  knee,  but  she  was  not  reading.  She  was  looking 
away  to  the  distant  woods  beyond  the  lake;  then  to 
the  pearly  sky  above,  flecked  with  rosy  clouds  and 
streaked  with  gleams  of  gold;  and  a  sense  of  content, 
and  gladness,  and  well-being,  filled  her. 

Presently  she  heard  a  light  step  on  the  gravel  below 
and  leaned  forward  to  see  to  whom  it  belonged.  Garth 
had  come  out  of  the  smoking-room  and  walked  briskly 
to  and  fro,  once  or  twice.  Then  he  threw  himself  into 
a  wicker  seat  just  beneath  her  window,  and  sat  there, 
smoking  meditatively.  The  fragrance  of  his  cigarette 
reached  Jane,  up  among  the  magnolia  blossoms.  "  'Ze- 
nith,' Marcovitch, "  she  said  to  herself,  and  smiled. 
"  Packed  in  jolly  green  boxes,  twelve  shillings  a  hundred! 
I  must  remember  in  case  I  want  to  give  him  a  Christmas 
present.  By  then  it  will  be  difficult  to  find  anything 
which  has  not  already  been  showered  upon  him." 

Garth  flung  away  the  end  of  his  cigarette,  and  com- 
menced humming  below  his  breath ;  then  gradually  broke 
into  words  and  sang  softly,  in  his  sweet  barytone: 


'"  It  is  not  mine  to  sing  the  stately  grace, 
The  great  soul  beaming  in  my  lady's  face. 


t  >t 


Lady  Ingleby's  House  Party         89 

The  tones,  though  quiet,  were  so  vibrant  with  pas- 
sionate feeling,  that  Jane  felt  herself  an  eavesdropper. 
She  hastily  picked  a  large  magnolia  leaf  and,  leaning 
out,  let  it  fall  upon  his  head.  Garth  started,  and  looked 
up.    "  Hullo ! "  he  said.    "  You— up  there?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  laughing  down  at  him,  and  speak- 
ing low  lest  other  casements  should  be  open,  "I — up 
here.  You  are  serenading  the  wrong  window,  dear 
'devout  lover.'  " 

"What  a  lot  you  know  about  it,"  remarked  Garth, 
rather  moodily. 

"Don't  I?"  whispered  Jane.  "But  you  must  not 
mind,  Master  Garthie,  because  you  know  how  truly  I 
care.  In  old  Margery's  absence,  you  must  let  me  be 
mentor. " 

Garth  sprang  up  and  stood  erect,  looking  up  at  her, 
half-amused,  half-defiant. 

"Shall  I  climb  the  magnolia?"  he  said.  "I  have 
heaps  to  say  to  you  which  cannot  be  shouted  to  the 
whole  front  of  the  house. " 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Jane.  "I  don't  want  any 
Romeos  coming  in  at  my  window.  '  Hoity-toity !  What 
next?'  as  Aunt  'Gina  would  say.  Run  along  and  change 
your  pinafore,  Master  Garthie.  The  'heaps  of  things' 
must  keep  until  to-night,  or  we  shall  both  be  late  for 
dinner. " 

"All  right,"  said  Garth,  "all  right.  But  you  will 
come  out  here  this  evening,  Miss  Champion?  And 
you  will  give  me  as  long  as  I  want?" 

"I  will  come  as  soon  as  we  can  possibly  escape," 
replied  Jane;  "and  you  cannot  be  more  anxious  to  tell 
me  everything  than  I  am  to  hear  it.  Oh!  the  scent  of 
these  magnolias!  And  just  look  at  the  great  white 
trumpets!    Would  you  like  one  for  your  buttonhole?" 


90  The  Rosary 

He  gave  her  a  wistful,  whimsical  little  smile;  then 
turned  and  went  indoors. 

"Why  do  I  feel  so  inclined  to  tease  him?"  mused 
Jane,  as  she  moved  from  the  window.  "Really  it  is 
I  who  have  been  silly  this  time;  and  he,  staid  and  sensi- 
ble. Myra  is  quite  right.  He  is  taking  it  very  seriously. 
And  how  about  her?  Ah!  I  hope  she  cares  enough,  and 
in  the  right  way. — Come  in,  Matthews!  And  you  can 
put  out  the  gown  I  wore  on  the  night  of  the  concert  at 
Overdene,  and  we  must  make  haste.  We  have  just 
twenty  minutes.  What  a  lovely  evening !  Before  you  do 
anything  else,  come  and  see  this  sunset  on  the  lake.  Ah! 
it  is  good  to  be  here! " 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   REVELATION 

ALL  the  impatience  in  the  world  could  not  prevent 
dinner  at  Shenstone  from  being  a  long  function, 
and  two  of  the  most  popular  people  in  the  party  could 
not  easily  escape  afterwards  unnoticed.  So  a  distant 
clock  in  the  village  was  striking  ten,  as  Garth  and  Jane 
stepped  out  on  to  the  terrace  together.  Garth  caught 
up  a  rug  in  passing,  and  closed  the  door  of  the  lower 
hall  carefully  behind  him. 

They  were  quite  alone.  It  was  the  first  time  they 
had  been  really  alone  since  these  days  apart,  which  had 
seemed  so  long  to  both. 

They  walked  silently,  side  by  side,  to  the  wide  stone 
parapet  overlooking  the  old-fashioned  garden.  The 
silvery  moonlight  flooded  the  whole  scene  with  radi- 
ance. They  could  see  the  stiff  box-borders,  the  wind- 
ing paths,  the  queerly  shaped  flower-beds,  and,  beyond, 
the  lake,  like  a  silver  mirror,  reflecting  the  calm  loveliness 
of  the  full  moon. 

Garth  spread  the  rug  on  the  coping,  and  Jane  sat 
down.  He  stood  beside  her,  one  foot  on  the  coping, 
his  arms  folded  across  his  chest,  his  head  erect.  Jane 
had  seated  herself  sideways,  turning  towards  him,  her 
back  to  an  old  stone  lion  mounting  guard  upon  the 
parapet;  but  she  turned  her  head  still  further,  to  look 
down  upon  the  lake,  and  she  thought  Garth  was  looking 
in  the  same  direction. 

But  Garth  was  looking  at  Jane. 

She  wore  the  gown  of  soft  trailing  black  material 

91 


92  The  Rosary 

she  had  worn  at  the  Overdene  concert,  only  she  had 
not  on  the  pearls  or,  indeed,  any  ornament  save  a 
cluster  of  crimson  rambler  roses.  They  nestled  in  the 
soft,  creamy  old  lace  which  covered  the  bosom  of  her 
gown.  There  was  a  quiet  strength  and  nobility  about 
her  attitude  which  thrilled  the  soul  of  the  man  who 
stood  watching  her.  All  the  adoring  love,  the  passion 
of  worship,  which  filled  his  heart,  rose  to  his  eyes  and 
shone  there.  No  need  to  conceal  it  now.  His  hour 
had  come  at  last,  and  he  had  nothing  to  hide  from  the 
woman  he  loved. 

Presently  she  turned,  wondering  why  he  did  not 
begin  his  confidences  about  Pauline  Lister.  Looking 
up  inquiringly,  she  met  his  eyes. 

"Dal!"  cried  Jane,  and  half  rose  from  her  seat. 
"Oh,  Dal— don't!" 

He  gently  pressed  her  back.  "Hush,  dear,"  he 
said.  "  I  must  tell  you  everything,  and  you  have  prom- 
ised to  listen,  and  to  advise  and  help.  Ah,  Jane,  Jane! 
I  shall  need  your  help.  I  want  it  so  greatly,  and  not 
only  your  help,  Jane — but  you — you,  yourself.  Ah, 
how  I  want  you!  These  three  days  have  been  one 
continual  ache  of  loneliness,  because  you  were  not 
there;  and  life  began  to  live  and  move  again,  when  you 
returned.  And  yet  it  has  been  so  hard,  waiting  all 
these  hours  to  speak.  I  have  so  much  to  tell  you, 
Jane,  of  all  you  are  to  me — all  you  have  become  to 
me,  since  the  night  of  the  concert.  Ah,  how  can  I 
express  it?  I  have  never  had  any  big  things  in  my  life; 
all  has  been  more  or  less  trivial — on  the  surface.  This 
need  of  you — this  wanting  you — is  so  huge.  It  dwarfs 
all  that  went  before;  it  would  overwhelm  all  that  is  to 
come, — were  it  not  that  it  will  be  the  throne,  the  crown, 
the  summit,  of  the  future. — Oh,  Jane!    I  have  admired 


The  Revelation  93 

so  many  women.  I  have  raved  about  them,  sighed  for 
them,  painted  them,  and  forgotten  them.  But  I  never 
loved  a  woman  before;  I  never  knew  what  womanhood 
meant  to  a  man,  until  I  heard  your  voice  thrill  through 
the  stillness — '  I  count  each  pearl. '  Ah,  beloved,  I  have 
learned  to  count  pearls  since  then,  precious  hours  in  the 
past,  long  forgotten,  now  remembered,  and  at  last 
understood.  'Each  hour  a  pearl,  each  pearl  a  prayer,' 
ay,  a  passionate  plea  that  past  and  present  may  blend 
together  into  a  perfect  rosary,  and  that  the  future  may 
hold  no  possibility  of  pain  or  parting.  Oh,  Jane — Jane! 
Shall  I  ever  be  able  to  make  you  understand — all — ■ 
how  much —    Oh,  Jane!" 

She  was  not  sure  just  when  he  had  come  so  near ;  but 
he  had  dropped  on  one  knee  in  front  of  her,  and,  as 
he  uttered  the  last  broken  sentences,  he  passed  both 
his  arms  around  her  waist  and  pressed  his  face  into  the 
soft  lace  at  her  bosom.  A  sudden  quietness  came  over 
him.  All  struggling  with  explanations  seemed  hushed 
into  the  silence  of  complete  comprehension — an  all- 
pervading,  enveloping  silence. 

Jane  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  It  was  so  strangely 
sweet  to  have  him  there — this  whirlwind  of  emotion 
come  home  to  rest,  in  a  great  stillness,  just  above  her 
quiet  heart.  Suddenly  she  realised  that  the  blank 
of  the  last  three  days  had  not  been  the  miss  of  the 
music,  but  the  miss  of  him;  and  as  she  realised  this,  she 
unconsciously  put  her  arms  about  him.  Sensations 
unknown  to  her  before,  awoke  and  moved  within  her, 
— a  heavenly  sense  of  aloofness  from  the  world,  the 
loneliness  of  life  all  swept  away  by  this  dear  fact — 
just  he  and  she  together.  Even  as  she  thought  it,  felt  it, 
he  lifted  his  head,  still  holding  her,  and  looking  into  her 
face,  said:  "You  and  I  together,  my  own — my  own." 


94  The  Rosary 

But  those  beautiful  shining  eyes  were  more  than 
Jane  could  bear.  The  sense  of  her  plainness  smote 
her,  even  in  that  moment;  and  those  adoring  eyes 
seemed  lights  that  revealed  it.  With  no  thought  in  her 
mind  but  to  hide  the  outward  part  from  him  who  had 
suddenly  come  so  close  to  the  shrine  within,  she  quickly 
put  both  hands  behind  his  head  and  pressed  his  face 
down  again,  into  the  lace  at  her  bosom.  But,  to  him, 
those  dear  firm  hands  holding  him  close,  by  that  sudden 
movement,  seemed  an  acceptance  of  himself  and  of  all 
he  had  to  offer.  For  ten,  twenty,  thirty  exquisite  seconds, 
his  soul  throbbed  in  silence  and  rapture  beyond  words. 
Then  he  broke  from  the  pressure  of  those  restraining 
hands;  lifted  his  head,  and  looked  into  her  face  once 
more. 

"My  wife!"  he  said. 

Into  Jane's  honest  face  came  a  look  of  startled  wonder ; 
then  a  deep  flush,  seeming  to  draw  all  the  blood,  which 
had  throbbed  so  strangely  through  her  heart,  into  her 
cheeks,  making  them  burn,  and  her  heart  die  within  her. 

She  disengaged  herself  from  his  hold,  rose,  and  stood 
looking  away  to  where  the  still  waters  of  the  lake  gleamed 
silver  in  the  moonlight. 

Garth  Dalmain  stood  beside  her.  He  did  not  touch 
her,  nor  did  he  speak  again.  He  felt  sure  he  had  won; 
and  his  whole  soul  was  filled  with  a  gladness  unspeakable. 
His  spirit  was  content.  The  intense  silence  seemed  more 
expressive  than  words.  Any  ordinary  touch  would  have 
dimmed  the  sense  of  those  moments  when  her  hands  had 
held  him  to  her.    So  he  stood  quite  still  and  waited. 

At  last  Jane  spoke.  "Do  you  mean  that  you  wish  to 
ask  me  to  be — to  be  that — to  you?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  he  answered,  gently;  but  in  his  voice 


The  Revelation  95 

vibrated  the  quiet  of  strong  self-control.  "At  least  I 
came  out  here  intending  to  ask  it  of  you.  But  I  cannot 
ask  it  now,  beloved.  I  can't  ask  you  to  be  what  you  are 
already.  No  promise,  no  ceremony,  no  giving  or  receiv- 
ing of  a  ring,  could  make  you  more  my  wife  than  you  have 
been  just  now  in  those  wonderful  moments." 

Jane  slowly  turned  and  looked  at  him.  She  had 
never  seen  anything  so  radiant  as  his  face.  But  still 
those  shining  eyes  smote  her  like  swords.  She  longed 
to  cover  them  with  her  hands;  or  bid  him  look  away 
over  the  woods  and  water,  while  he  went  on  saying 
these  sweet  things  to  her.  She  put  up  one  foot  on  the 
low  parapet,  leaned  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  and  shielded 
her  face  with  her  hand.  Then  she  answered  him,  trying 
to  speak  calmly. 

"You  have  taken  me  absolutely  by  surprise,  Dal.  I 
knew  you  had  been  delightfully  nice  and  attentive 
since  the  concert  evening,  and  that  our  mutual  under- 
standing of  music  and  pleasure  in  it,  coupled  with  an 
increased  intimacy  brought  about  by  our  confidential 
conversation  under  the  cedar,  had  resulted  in  an  un- 
usually close  and  delightful  friendship.  I  honestly  admit 
it  seems  to  have — it  has — meant  more  to  me  than  any 
friendship  has  ever  meant.  But  that  was  partly  owing 
to  your  temperament,  Dal,  which  tends  to  make  you 
always  the  most  vivid  spot  in  one's  mental  landscape. 
But  truly  I  thought  you  wanted  me  out  here  in  order  to 
pour  out  confidences  about  Pauline  Lister.  Everybody 
believes  that  her  loveliness  has  effected  your  final 
capture,  and  truly,  Dal,  truly — I  thought  so,  too." 
Jane  paused. 

"Well?"  said  the  quiet  voice,  with  its  deep  undertone 
of  gladness.    "You  know  otherwise  now." 

"Dal — you  have  so  startled  and  astonished  me.     I 


96  The  Rosary 

cannot  give  you  an  answer  to-night.  You  must  let 
me  have  until  to-morrow — to-morrow  morning." 

"But,  beloved,"  he  said  tenderly,  moving  a  little 
nearer,  "there  is  no  more  need  for  you  to  answer  than 
I  felt  need  to  put  a  question.  Can't  you  realise  this? 
Question  and  answer  were  asked  and  given  just  now. 
Oh,  my  dearest — come  back  to  me.     Sit  down  again." 

But  Jane  stood  rigid. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  can't  allow  you  to  take  things 
for  granted  in  this  way.  You  took  me  by  surprise,  and 
I  lost  my  head  utterly — unpardonably,  I  admit.  But, 
my  dear  boy,  marriage  is  a  serious  thing.  Marriage  is 
not  a  mere  question  of  sentiment.  It  has  to  wear.  It 
has  to  last.  It  must  have  a  solid  and  dependable  founda- 
tion, to  stand  the  test  and  strain  of  daily  life  together.  I 
know  so  many  married  couples  intimately.  I  stay  in 
their  homes,  and  act  sponsor  to  their  children;  with  the 
result  that  I  vowed  never  to  risk  it  myself.  And  now 
I  have  let  you  put  this  question,  and  you  must  not 
wonder  if  I  ask  for  twelve  hours  to  think  it  over." 

Garth  took  this  silently.  He  sat  down  on  the  stone 
coping  with  his  back  to  the  lake  and,  leaning  back- 
ward, tried  to  see  her  face;  but  the  hand  completely 
screened  it.  He  crossed  his  knees  and  clasped  both 
hands  around  them,  rocking  slightly  backward  and 
forward  for  a  minute  while  mastering  the  impulse  to 
speak  or  act  violently.  He  strove  to  compose  his  mind 
by  fixing  it  upon  trivial  details  which  chanced  to  catch 
his  eye.  His  red  socks  showed  clearly  in  the  moon- 
light against  the  white  paving  of  the  terrace,  and  looked 
well  with  black  patent-leather  shoes.  He  resolved  al- 
ways to  wear  red  silk  socks  in  the  evening,  and  wondered 
whether  Jane  would  knit  some  for  him.  He  counted  the 
windows  along  the  front  of  the  house,  noting  which  were 


The  Revelation  97 

his  and  which  were  Jane's,  and  how  many  came  between. 
At  last  he  knew  he  could  trust  himself,  and,  leaning  back, 
spoke  very  gently,  his  dark  head  almost  touching  the 
lace  of  her  sleeve. 

"Dearest — tell  me,  didn't  you  feel  just  now " 

"Oh,  hush!"  cried  Jane,  almost  harshly,  "hush,  Dal! 
Don't  talk  about  feelings  with  this  question  between  us. 
Marriage  is  fact,  not  feeling.  If  you  want  to  do  really 
the  best  thing  for  us  both,  go  straight  indoors  now  and 
don't  speak  to  me  again  to-night.  I  heard  you  say  you 
were  going  to  try  the  organ  in  the  church  on  the  common 
at  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  Well — I  will 
come  there  soon  after  half-past  eleven  and  listen  while 
you  play ;  and  at  noon  you  can  send  away  the  blower,  and 
I  will  give  you  my  answer.  But  now — oh,  go  away,  dear; 
for  truly  I  cannot  bear  any  more.    I  must  be  left  alone. " 

Garth  loosed  the  strong  fingers  clasped  so  tightly 
round  his  knee.  He  slipped  the  hand  next  to  her  along 
the  stone  coping,  close  to  her  foot.  She  felt  him  take 
hold  of  her  gown  with  those  deft,  masterful  fingers. 
Then  he  bent  his  dark  head  quickly,  and  whispering: 
"I  kiss  the  cross,"  with  a  gesture  of  infinite  reverence 
and  tenderness,  which  Jane  never  forgot,  he  kissed  the 
hem  of  her  skirt.    The  next  moment  she  was  alone. 

She  listened  while  his  footsteps  died  away.  She  heard 
the  door  into  the  lower  hall  open  and  close.  Then 
slowly  she  sat  down  just  as  she  had  sat  when  he  knelt 
in  front  of  her.  Now  she  was  quite  alone.  The  tension 
of  these  last  hard  moments  relaxed.  She  pressed  both 
hands  over  the  lace  at  her  bosom  where  that  dear, 
beautiful,  adoring  face  had  been  hidden.  Had  she  felt, 
he  asked.    Ah!  what  had  she  not  felt? 

Tears  never  came  easily  to  Jane.  But  to-night  she 
had  been  called  a  name  by  which  she  had  never  thought 


98  The  Rosary 

to  be  called;  and  already  her  honest  heart  was  telling 
her  she  would  never  be  called  by  it  again.  And  large 
silent  tears  overflowed  and  fell  upon  her  hands  and 
upon  the  lace  at  her  breast.  For  the  wife  and  the 
mother  in  her  had  been  wakened  and  stirred,  and  the 
deeps  of  her  nature  broke  through  the  barriers  of  stern 
repression  and  almost  masculine  self-control,  and  re- 
fused to  be  driven  back  without  the  womanly  tribute 
of  tears. 

And  around  her  feet  lay  the  scattered  petals  of  crushed 
rambler  roses. 

Presently  she  passed  indoors.  The  upper  hall  was 
filled  with  merry  groups  and  resounded  with  "good- 
nights"  as  the  women  mounted  the  great  staircase, 
pausing  to  fling  back  final  repartees,  or  to  confirm 
plans  for  the  morrow. 

Garth  Dalmain  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case, held  in  conversation  by  Pauline  Lister  and  her 
aunt,  who  had  turned  on  the  fourth  step.  Jane  saw  his 
slim,  erect  figure  and  glossy  head  the  moment  she 
entered  the  hall.  His  back  was  towards  her,  and  though 
she  advanced  and  stood  quite  near,  he  gave  no  sign  of 
being  aware  of  her  presence.  But  the  joyousness  of  his 
voice  seemed  to  make  him  hers  again  in  this  new  sweet 
way.  She  alone  knew  what  had  caused  it,  and  uncon- 
sciously she  put  one  hand  over  her  bosom  as  she  listened. 

"Sorry,  dear  ladies,"  Garth  was  saying,  "but  to- 
morrow morning  is  impossible.  I  have  an  engagement 
in  the  village.    Yes — really!    At  eleven  o'clock. " 

"That  sounds  so  rural  and  pretty,  Mr.  Dalmain," 
said  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs.  "Why  not  take  Pauline  and 
me  along?  We  have  seen  no  dairies,  and  no  dairy- 
maids, nor  any  of  the  things  in  Adam  Bede,  since  we 


The  Revelation  99 

came  over.  I  would  just  love  to  step  into  Mrs.  Poyser's 
kitchen  and  see  myself  reflected  in  the  warming-pans  on 
the  walls." 

"  Perhaps  we  would  be  de  trop  in  the  dairy, "  murmured 
Miss  Lister  archly. 

She  looked  very  lovely  in  her  creamy-white  satin 
gown,  her  small  head  held  regally,  the  brilliant  charm 
of  American  womanhood  radiating  from  her.  She  wore 
no  jewels,  save  one  string  of  perfectly  matched  pearls; 
but  on  Pauline  Lister's  neck  even  pearls  seemed  to 
sparkle. 

All  these  scintillations,  flung  at  Garth,  passed  over 
his  sleek  head  and  reached  Jane  where  she  lin- 
gered in  the  background.  She  took  in  every  detail. 
Never  had  Miss  Lister's  loveliness  been  more  correctly 
appraised. 

"But  it  happens,  unfortunately,  to  be  neither  a 
dairy-maid  nor  a  warming-pan,"  said  Garth.  "My 
appointment  is  with  a  very  grubby  small  boy,  whose 
rural  beauties  consist  in  a  shock  of  red  hair  and  a  whole 
pepper-pot  of  freckles. " 

"Philanthropic?"  inquired  Miss  Lister. 

"Yes,  at  the  rate  of  threepence  an  hour." 

"A  caddy,  of  course, "  cried  both  ladies  together. 

"My!  What  a  mystery  about  a  thing  so  simple!" 
added  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs.  "Now  we  have  heard,  Mr. 
Dalmain,  that  it  is  well  worth  the  walk  to  the  links 
to  see  you  play.  So  you  may  expect  us  to  arrive  there, 
time  to  see  you  start  around. " 

Garth's  eyes  twinkled.  Jane  could  hear  the  twinkle 
in  his  voice.  "My  dear  lady,"  he  said,  "you  over- 
estimate my  play  as,  in  your  great  kindness  of  heart, 
you  overestimate  many  other  things  connected  with 
me.    But  I  shall  like  to  think  of  you  at  the  golf  links 


ioo  The  Rosary 

at  eleven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  You  might  drive 
there,  but  the  walk  through  the  woods  is  too  charming 
to  miss.  Only  remember,  you  cross  the  park  and  leave 
by  the  north  gate,  not  the  main  entrance  by  which  we  go 
to  the  railway  station.  I  would  offer  to  escort  you,  but 
duty  takes  me,  at  an  early  hour,  in  quite  another  direc- 
tion. Besides,  when  Miss  Lister's  wish  to  see  the  links 
is  known,  so  many  people  will  discover  golf  to  be  the  one 
possible  way  of  spending  to-morrow  morning,  that  I 
should  be  but  a  unit  in  the  crowd  which  will  troop  across 
the  park  to  the  north  gate.  It  will  be  quite  impossible 
for  you  to  miss  your  way. " 

Mrs.  Parker  Bangs  was  beginning  to  explain  elabo- 
rately that  never,  under  any  circumstances,  could  he  be 
a  unit,  when  her  niece  peremptorily  interposed. 

"That  will  do,  aunt.  Don't  be  silly.  We  are  all 
units,  except  when  we  make  a  crowd;  which  is  what  we 
are  doing  on  this  staircase  at  this  present  moment, 
so  that  Miss  Champion  has  for  some  time  been  trying 
ineffectually  to  pass  us.  Do  you  golf  to-morrow,  Miss 
Champion?" 

Garth  stood  on  one  side,  and  Jane  began  to  mount 
the  stairs.  He  did  not  look  at  her,  but  it  seemed  to 
Jane  that  his  eyes  were  on  the  hem  of  her  gown  as 
it  trailed  past  him.  She  paused  beside  Miss  Lister. 
She  knew  exactly  how  effectual  a  foil  she  made  to  the 
American  girl's  white  loveliness.  She  turned  and  faced 
him.  She  wished  him  to  look  up  and  see  them  standing 
there  together.  She  wanted  the  artist  eyes  to  take  in  the 
cruel  contrast.  She  wanted  the  artist  soul  of  him  to 
realise  it.    She  waited. 

Garth's  eyes  were  still  on  the  hem  of  her  gown,  close 
to  the  left  foot;  but  he  lifted  them  slowly  to  the  lace 
at  her  bosom,  where  her  hand  still  lay.     There  they 


The  Revelation  101 

rested  a  moment,  then  dropped  again,  without  rising 
higher. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs,  "are  you  playing 
around  with  Mr.  Dalmain  to-morrow  forenoon,  Miss 
Champion?" 

Jane  suddenly  flushed  crimson,  and  then  was  furious 
with  herself  for  blushing,  and  hated  the  circumstances 
which  made  her  feel  and  act  so  unlike  her  ordinary 
self.  She  hesitated  during  the  long  dreadful  moment. 
How  dared  Garth  behave  in  that  way?  People  would 
think  there  was  something  unusual  about  her  gown. 
She  felt  a  wild  impulse  to  stoop  and  look  at  it  herself 
to  see  whether  his  kiss  had  materialised  and  was  hang- 
ing like  a  star  to  the  silken  hem.  Then  she  forced 
herself  to  calmness  and  answered  rather  brusquely:  "I 
am  not  golfing  to-morrow;  but  you  could  not  do  better 
than  go  to  the  links.  Good-night,  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs. 
Sleep  well,  Miss  Lister.    Good-night,  Dal." 

Garth  was  on  the  step  below  them,  handing  Pauline's 
aunt  a  letter  she  had  dropped. 

"Good-night,  Miss  Champion,"  he  said,  and  for  one 
instant  his  eyes  met  hers,  but  he  did  not  hold  out  his 
hand,  or  appear  to  see  hers  half  extended. 

The  three  women  mounted  the  staircase  together, 
then  went  different  ways.  Miss  Lister  trailed  away 
down  a  passage  to  the  right,  her  aunt  trotting  in  her  wake. 

"There's  been  a  tiff  there,"  said  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs. 

"Poor  thing!"  said  Miss  Lister  softly.  "I  like  her. 
She's  a  real  good  sort.  I  should  have  thought  she 
would  have  been  more  sensible  than  the  rest  of  us. " 

"A  real  plain  sort,"  said  her  aunt,  ignoring  the  last 
sentence. 

"Well,  she  didn't  make  her  own  face,"  said  Miss 
Lister  generously. 


102  The  Rosary 

"No,  and  she  don't  pay  other  people  to  make  it  for 
her.  She's  what  Sir  Walter  Scott  calls:  'Nature  in  all 
its  ruggedness. '  " 

"Dear  aunt,"  remarked  Miss  Lister  wearily,  "I  wish 
you  wouldn't  trouble  to  quote  the  English  classics  to 
me  when  we  are  alone.  It  is  pure  waste  of  breath, 
because  you  see  I  know  you  have  read  them  all.  Here 
is  my  door.  Now  come  right  in  and  make  yourself 
comfy  on  that  couch.  I  am  going  to  sit  in  this  palatial 
arm-chair  opposite,  and  do  a  little  very  needful  ex- 
plaining. My!  How  they  fix  one  to  the  floor!  These 
ancestral  castles  are  all  right  so  far  as  they  go,  but  they 
don't  know  a  thing  about  rockers.  Now  I  have  a  word  or 
two  to  say  about  Miss  Champion.  She's  a  real  good  sort, 
and  I  like  her.  She's  not  a  beauty;  but  she  has  a  fine 
figure,  and  she  dresses  right.  She  has  heaps  of  money, 
and  could  have  rarer  pearls  than  mine;  but  she  knows 
better  than  to  put  pearls  on  that  brown  skin.  I  like  a 
woman  who  knows  her  limitations  and  is  sensible  over 
them.  All  the  men  adore  her,  not  for  what  she  looks  but 
for  what  she  is,  and,  my  word,  aunt,  that's  what  pays  in 
the  long  run.  That  is  what  lasts.  Ten  years  hence  the 
Honourable  Jane  will  still  be  what  she  is,  and  I  shall  be 
trying  to  look  what  I'm  not.  As  for  Garth  Dalmain, 
he  has  eyes  for  all  of  us  and  a  heart  for  none.  His 
pretty  speeches  and  admiring  looks  don't  mean  mar- 
riage, because  he  is  a  man  with  an  ideal  of  womanhood 
and  he  can't  see  himself  marrying  below  it.  If  the 
Sistine  Madonna  could  step  down  off  those  clouds  and 
hand  the  infant  to  the  young  woman  on  her  left,  he 
might  marry  her;  but  even  then  he  would  be  afraid  he 
might  see  some  one  next  day  who  did  her  hair  more 
becomingly,  or  that  her  foot  would  not  look  so  well 
on  his  Persian  rugs  as  it  does  on  that  cloud.    He  won't 


The  Revelation  103 

marry  money,  because  he  has  plenty  of  it.  And  even 
if  he  hadn't,  money  made  in  candles  would  not  appeal 
to  him.  He  won't  marry  beauty,  because  he  thinks  too 
much  about  it.  He  adores  so  many  lovely  faces,  that 
he  is  never  sure  for  twenty-four  hours  which  of  them  he 
admires  most,  bar  the  fact  that,  as  in  the  case  of  fruit 
trees,  the  unattainable  are  usually  the  most  desired. 
He  won't  marry  goodness — virtue — worth — whatever 
you  choose  to  call  the  sterling  qualities  of  character — 
because  in  all  these  the  Honourable  Jane  Champion  is 
his  ideal,  and  she  is  too  sensible  a  woman  to  tie  such  an 
epicure  to  her  plain  face.  Besides,  she  considers  herself 
his  grandmother,  and  doesn't  require  him  to  teach  her 
to  suck  eggs.  But  Garth  Dalmain,  poor  boy,  is  so  sub- 
limely lacking  in  self-consciousness  that  he  never  ques- 
tions whether  he  can  win  his  ideal.  He  possesses  her 
already  in  his  soul,  and  it  will  be  a  fearful  smack  in  the 
face  when  she  says  'No,'  as  she  assuredly  will  do, 
for  reasons  aforesaid.  These  three  days,  while  he  has 
been  playing  around  with  me,  and  you  and  other  dear 
match-making  old  donkeys  have  gambolled  about  us, 
and  made  sure  we  were  falling  in  love,  he  has  been 
worshipping  the  ground  she  walks  on,  and  counting  the 
hours  until  he  should  see  her  walk  on  it  again.  He  en- 
joyed being  with  me  more  than  with  the  other  girls, 
because  I  understood,  and  helped  him  to  work  all 
conversations  round  to  her,  and  he  knew,  when  she 
arrived  here,  I  could  be  trusted  to  develop  sudden 
anxiety  about  you,  or  have  important  letters  to  write, 
if  she  came  in  sight.  But  that  is  all  there  will  ever  be 
between  me  and  Garth  Dalmain;  and  if  you  had  a 
really  careful  regard  for  my  young  affections  you  would 
drop  your  false  set  on  the  marble  wash-stand,  or  devise 
some   other    equally    false   excuse   for   our   immediate 


104  The  Rosary 

departure  for  town  to-morrow. — And  now,  dear,  don't 
stay  to  argue;  because  I  have  said  exactly  all  there  is  to 
say  on  the  subject,  and  a  little  more.  And  try  to  toddle 
to  bed  without  telling  me  of  which  cute  character  in 
Dickens  I  remind  you,  because  I  am  cuter  than  any  of 
them,  and  if  I  stay  in  this  tight  frock  another  second 
I  can't  answer  for  the  consequences. — Oui,  Josephine, 
entrez! — Good-night,  dear  aunt.    Happy  dreams!" 

But  after  her  maid  had  left  her,  Pauline  switched 
off  the  electric  light  and,  drawing  back  the  curtain, 
stood  for  a  long  while  at  her  window,  looking  out  at  the 
peaceful  English  scene  bathed  in  moonlight.  At  last 
she  murmured  softly,  leaning  her  beautiful  head  against 
the  window  frame: 

"I  stated  your  case  well,  but  you  didn't  quite  deserve 
it,  Dal.  You  ought  to  have  let  me  know  about  Jane, 
weeks  ago.  Anyway,  it  will  stop  the  talk  about  you 
and  me.  And  as  for  you,  dear,  you  will  go  on  sighing 
for  the  moon;  and  when  you  find  the  moon  is  unattain- 
able, you  will  not  dream  of  seeking  solace  in  more 
earthly  lights — not  even  poppa's  best  sperm,"  she 
added,  with  a  wistful  little  smile,  for  Pauline's  fun 
sparkled  in  solitude  as  freely  as  in  company,  and  as 
often  at  her  own  expense  as  at  that  of  other  people, 
and  her  brave  American  spirit  would  not  admit,  even 
to  herself,  a  serious  hurt. 

Meanwhile  Jane  had  turned  to  the  left  and  passed 
slowly  to  her  room.  Garth  had  not  taken  her  half- 
proffered  hand,  and  she  knew  perfectly  well  why.  He 
would  never  again  be  content  to  clasp  her  hand  in 
friendship.  If  she  cut  him  off  from  the  touch  which 
meant  absolute  possession,  she  cut  herself  off  from  the 
contact  of  simple  comradeship.  Garth,  to-night,  was 
like  a  royal  tiger  who  had  tasted  blood.     It  seemed  a 


The  Revelation  105 

queer  simile,  as  she  thought  of  him  in  his  conventional 
evening  clothes,  correct  in  every  line,  well-groomed, 
smart  almost  to  a  fault.  But  out  on  the  terrace  with 
him  she  had  realised,  for  the  first  time,  the  primal 
elements  which  go  to  the  making  of  a  man — a  force- 
ful determined,  ruling  man — creation's  king.  They  echo 
of  primeval  forests.  The  roar  of  the  Hon  is  in  them, 
the  fierceness  of  the  tiger;  the  instinct  of  dominant 
possession,  which  says:  "Mine  to  have  and  hold,  to 
fight  for  and  enjoy;  and  I  slay  all  comers!"  She  had 
felt  it,  and  her  own  brave  soul  had  understood  it  and 
responded  to  it,  unafraid;  and  been  ready  to  mate  with 
it,  if  only — ah!  if  only 

But  things  could  never  be  again  as  they  had  been 
before.  If  she  meant  to  starve  her  tiger,  steel  bars 
must  be  between  them  for  evermore.  None  of  those 
sentimental  suggestions  of  attempts  to  be  a  sort  of 
unsatisfactory  cross  between  sister  and  friend  would 
do  for  the  man  whose  head  she  had  unconsciously  held 
against  her  breast.  Jane  knew  this.  He  had  kept 
himself  magnificently  in  hand  after  she  put  him  from 
her,  but  she  knew  he  was  only  giving  her  breathing 
space.  He  still  considered  her  his  own,  and  his  very 
certainty  of  the  near  future  had  given  him  that  gentle 
patience  in  the  present.  But  even  now,  while  her 
answer  pended,  he  would  not  take  her  hand  in  friendship. 

Jane  closed  her  door  and  locked  it.  She  must  face 
this  problem  of  the  future,  with  all  else  locked  out 
excepting  herself  and  him.  Ah!  if  she  could  but  lock 
herself  out  and  think  only  of  him  and  of  his  love,  as 
beautiful,  perfect  gifts  laid  at  her  feet,  that  she  might 
draw  them  up  into  her  empty  arms  and  clasp  them  there 
for  evermore.  Just  for  a  little  while  she  would  do  this. 
One  hour  of  realisation  was  her  right.    Afterwards  she 


106  The  Rosary 

must  bring  herself  into  the  problem, — her  possibili- 
ties; her  limitations;  herself,  in  her  relation  to  him  in 
the  future;  in  the  effect  marriage  with  her  would  be 
likely  to  have  upon  him.  What  it  might  mean  to  her 
did  not  consciously  enter  into  her  calculations.  Jane 
was  self-conscious,  with  the  intense  self-consciousness 
of  all  reserved  natures,  but  she  was  not  selfish. 

At  first,  then,  she  left  her  room  in  darkness,  and,  grop- 
ing her  way  to  the  curtains,  drew  them  back,  threw 
up  the  sash,  and,  drawing  a  chair  to  the  window,  sat 
down,  leaning  her  elbows  on  the  sill  and  her  chin 
in  her  hands,  and  looked  down  upon  the  terrace,  still 
bathed  in  moonlight.  Her  window  was  almost  oppo- 
site the  place  where  she  and  Garth  had  talked.  She 
could  see  the  stone  lion  and  the  vase  full  of  scarlet 
geraniums.  She  could  locate  the  exact  spot  where  she 
was  sitting  when  he —     Memory  awoke,  vibrant. 

Then  Jane  allowed  herself  the  most  wonderful  men- 
tal experience  of  her  life.  She  was  a  woman  of  pur- 
pose and  decision.  She  had  said  she  had  a  right  to 
that  hour,  and  she  took  it  to  the  full.  In  soul  she  met 
her  tiger  and  mated  with  him,  unafraid.  He  had  not 
asked  whether  she  loved  him  or  not,  and  she  did  not 
need  to  ask  herself.  She  surrendered  her  proud  liberty, 
and  tenderly,  humbly,  wistfully,  yet  with  all  the  strength 
of  her  strong  nature,  promised  to  love,  honour,  and  obey 
him.  She  met  the  adoration  of  his  splendid  eyes  without 
a  tremor.  She  had  locked  her  body  out.  She  was  alone 
with  her  soul;  and  her  soul  was  all-beautiful — perfect 
for  him. 

The  loneliness  of  years  slipped  from  her.  Life  be- 
came rich  and  purposeful.  He  needed  her  always,  and 
she  was  always  there  and  always  able  to  meet  his  need. 
"Are  you  content,  my  beloved?"  she  asked  over  and 


The  Revelation  107 

over;  and  Garth's  joyous  voice,  with  the  ring  of  per- 
petual youth  in  it,  always  answered:  "Perfectly  con- 
tent." And  Jane  smiled  into  the  night,  and  in  the 
depths  of  her  calm  eyes  dawned  a  knowledge  hitherto 
unknown,  and  in  her  tender  smile  trembled,  with  un- 
speakable sweetness,  an  understanding  of  the  secret  of 
a  woman's  truest  bliss.  "He  is  mine  and  I  am  his. 
And  because  he  is  mine,  my  beloved  is  safe ;  and  because 
I  am  his,  he  is  content. " 

Thus  she  gave  herself  completely;  gathering  him 
into  the  shelter  of  her  love;  and  her  generous  heart  ex- 
panded to  the  greatness  of  the  gift.  Then  the  mother 
in  her  awoke  and  realised  how  much  of  the  maternal 
flows  into  the  love  of  a  true  woman  when  she  under- 
stands how  largely  the  child-nature  predominates  in 
the  man  in  love,  and  how  the  very  strength  of  his  need 
of  her  reduces  to  unaccustomed  weakness  the  strong 
nature  to  which  she  has  become  essential. 

Jane  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  breast.  "Garth," 
she  whispered,  "Garth,  /  understand.  My  own  poor 
boy,  it  was  so  hard  to  you  to  be  sent  away  just  then. 
But  you  had  had  all — a? I  you  wanted,  in  those  few 
wonderful  moments,  and  nothing  can  rob  you  of  that 
fact.  And  you  have  made  me  so  yours  that,  whatever 
the  future  brings  for  you  and  me,  no  other  face  will 
ever  be  hidden  here.  It  is  yours,  and  I  am  yours — 
to-night,  and  henceforward,  forever." 

Jane  leaned  her  forehead  on  the  window-sill.  The 
moonlight  fell  on  the  heavy  coils  of  her  brown  hair. 
The  scent  of  the  magnolia  blooms  rose  in  fragrance 
around  her.  The  song  of  a  nightingale  purled  and 
thrilled  in  an  adjacent  wood.  The  lonely  years  of  the 
past,  the  perplexing  moments  of  the  present,  the  un- 
certain vistas  of  the  future,  all  rolled  away.     She  sa^ed 


io8  The  Rosary 

i 

with  Garth  upon  a  golden  ocean  far  removed  from  the 
shores  of  time.  For  love  is  eternal;  and  the  birth  of 
love  frees  the  spirit  from  all  limitations  of  the  flesh. 

A  clock  in  the  distant  village  struck  midnight.  The 
twelve  strokes  floated  up  to  Jane's  window  across  the 
moonlit  park.  Time  was  once  more.  Her  freed  spirit 
resumed  the  burden  of  the  body. 

A  new  day  had  begun,  the  day  upon  which  she  had 
promised  her  answer  to  Garth.  The  next  time  that 
clock  struck  twelve  she  would  be  standing  with  him 
in  the  church,  and  her  answer  must  be  ready. 

She  turned  from  the  window  without  closing  it, 
drew  the  curtains  closely  across,  switched  on  the  electric 
light  over  the  writing-table,  took  off  her  evening  gown, 
hung  up  bodice  and  skirt  in  the  wardrobe,  resolutely 
locking  the  door  upon  them.  Then  she  slipped  on  a 
sage-green  wrapper,  which  she  had  lately  purchased  at 
a  bazaar  because  every  one  else  fled  from  it,  and  the  old 
lady  whose  handiwork  it  was  seemed  so  disappointed, 
and,  drawing  a  chair  near  the  writing-table,  took  out  her 
diary,  unlocked  the  heavy  clasp,  and  began  to  read. 
She  turned  the  pages  slowly,  pausing  here  and  there, 
until  she  came  to  those  she  sought.  Over  them  she 
pondered  long,  her  head  in  her  hands.  They  contained 
a  very  full  account  of  her  conversation  with  Garth  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  concert  at  Overdene; 
and  the  lines  upon  which  she  specially  dwelt  were  these : 
"His  face  was  transfigured.  .  .  .  Goodness  and  in- 
spiration shone  from  it,  making  it  as  the  face  of  an 
angel.  ...  I  never  thought  him  ugly  again.  Child 
though  I  was,  I  could  differentiate  even  then  between 
ugliness  and  plainness.  I  have  associated  his  face  ever 
since  with  the  wondrous  beauty  of  his  soul.    When  he  sat 


The  Revelation  109 

down,  at  the  close  of  his  address,  I  no  longer  thought  him 
a  complicated  form  of  chimpanzee.  I  remembered  the 
divine  halo  of  his  smile.  Of  course  it  was  not  the  sort 
of  face  one  could  have  wanted  to  live  with,  or  to  have 
day  after  day  opposite  one  at  table,  but  then  one  was 
not  called  to  that  sort  of  discipline,  which  would  have 
been  martyrdom  to  me.  And  he  has  always  stood 
to  my  mind  since  as  a  proof  of  the  truth  that  good- 
ness is  never  ugly,  and  that  divine  love  and  aspiration, 
shining  through  the  plainest  features,  may  redeem 
them,  temporarily,  into  beauty;  and  permanently,  into 
a  thing  one  loves  to  remember. " 

At  first  Jane  read  the  entire  passage.  Then  her 
mind  focussed  itself  upon  one  sentence:  "Of  course 
it  was  not  the  sort  of  face  one  could  have  wanted  to  live 
with,  or  to  have  day  after  day  opposite  one  at  table,  .  .  . 
which  would  have  been  martyrdom  to  me." 

At  length  Jane  arose,  turned  on  all  the  lights  over 
the  dressing-table,  particularly  two  bright  ones  on 
either  side  of  the  mirror,  and,  sitting  down  before  it, 
faced  herself  honestly. 

•  •••••• 

When  the  village  clock  struck  one,  Garth  Dalmain 
stood  at  his  window  taking  a  final  look  at  the  night 
which  had  meant  so  much  to  him.  He  remembered, 
with  an  amused  smile,  how,  to  help  himself  to  calm- 
ness, he  had  sat  on  the  terrace  and  thought  of  his  socks, 
and  then  had  counted  the  windows  between  his  and 
Jane's.  There  were  five  of  them.  He  knew  her  window 
by  the  magnolia  tree  and  the  seat  beneath  it  where  he  had 
chanced  to  sit,  not  knowing  she  was  above  him.  He 
leaned  far  out  and  looked  towards  it  now.  The  curtains 
were  drawn,  but  there  appeared  still  to  be  a  light  behind 
them.    Even  as  he  watched,  it  went  out. 


no  The  Rosary 

He  looked  down  at  the  terrace.  He  could  see  the 
stone  lion  and  the  vase  of  scarlet  geraniums.  He  could 
locate  the  exact  spot  where  she  was  sitting  when  he 

Then  he  dropped  upon  his  knees  beside  the  window 
and  looked  up  into  the  starry  sky. 

Garth's  mother  had  lived  long  enough  to  teach  him 
the  holy  secret  of  her  sweet  patience  and  endurance. 
In  moments  of  deep  feeling,  words  from  his  mother's 
Bible  came  to  his  lips  more  readily  than  expressions 
of  his  own  thought.  Now,  looking  upward,  he  repeated 
softly  and  reverently:  "  'Every  good  gift  and  every 
perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down  from  the 
Father  of  lights,  with  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither 
shadow  of  turning.'  And  oh,  Father,"  he  added, 
"keep  us  in  the  light — she  and  I.  May  there  be  in  us, 
as  there  is  in  Thee,  no  variableness,  neither  shadow 
which  is  cast  by  turning. " 

Then  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  across  once  more 
to  the  stone  lion  and  the  broad  coping.  His  soul  sang 
within  him,  and  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest. 
"My  wife!"  he  said.    "Oh!  my  wife!" 

And,  as  the  village  clock  struck  one,  Jane  arrived  at 
her  decision. 

Slowly  she  rose,  and  turned  off  all  the  lights;  then, 
groping  her  way  to  the  bed,  fell  upon  her  knees  beside 
it,  and  broke  into  a  passion  of  desperate,  silent  weeping. 


CHAPTER  XI 

GARTH   FINDS   THE   CROSS 

THE  village  church  on  the  green  was  bathed  in  sun- 
shine as  Jane  emerged  from  the  cool  shade  of  the 
park.  The  clock  proclaimed  the  hour  half -past  eleven, 
and  Jane  did  not  hasten,  knowing  she  was  not  expected 
until  twelve.  The  windows  of  the  church  were  open, 
and  the  massive  oaken  doors  stood  ajar. 

Jane  paused  beneath  the  ivy-covered  porch  and 
stood  listening.  The  tones  of  the  organ  reached  her 
as  from  an  immense  distance,  and  yet  with  an  all- 
pervading  nearness.  The  sound  was  disassociated  from 
hands  and  feet.  The  organ  seemed  breathing,  and  its 
breath  was  music. 

Jane  pushed  the  heavy  door  further  open,  and  even 
at  that  moment  it  occurred  to  her  that  the  freckled 
boy  with  a  red  head,  and  Garth's  slim  proportions,  had 
evidently  passed  easily  through  an  aperture  which  re- 
fused ingress  to  her  more  massive  figure.  She  pushed  the 
door  further  open,  and  went  in. 

Instantly  a  stillness  entered  into  her  soul.  The 
sense  of  unseen  presences,  often  so  strongly  felt  on 
entering  an  empty  church  alone,  the  impress  left  upon 
old  walls  and  rafters  by  the  worshipping  minds  of 
centuries,  hushed  the  insistent  beating  of  her  own  per- 
plexity, and  for  a  few  moments  she  forgot  the  errand 
which  brought  her  there,  and  bowed  her  head  in  unison 
with  the  worship  of  ages. 

Garth  was  playing  the  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus  to 
Attwood's  perfect  setting;  and,  as  Jane  walked  noise- 

iii 


ii2  The  Rosary 

lessly  up  to  the  chancel,  he  began  to  sing  the  words  of 
the  second  verse.  He  sang  them  softly,  but  his  beau- 
tifully modulated  barytone  carried  well,  and  every 
syllable  reached  her. 

"  Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight; 
Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  iaee 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace; 
Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home; 
Where  Thou  art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come. " 

Then  the  organ  swelled  into  full  power,  pealing  out 
the  theme  of  the  last  verse  without  its  words,  and 
allowing  those  he  had  sung  to  repeat  themselves  over 
and  over  in  Jane's  mind:  "Where  Thou  art  Guide,  no 
ill  can  come. "  Had  she  not  prayed  for  guidance?  Then 
surely  all  would  be  well. 

She  paused  at  the  entrance  to  the  chancel.  Garth 
had  returned  to  the  second  verse,  and  was  singing 
again,  to  a  waldflute  accompaniment,  "Enable  with 
perpetual  light — . " 

Jane  seated  herself  in  one  of  the  old  oak  stalls  and 
looked  around  her.  The  brilliant  sunshine  from  with- 
out entered  through  the  stained-glass  windows,  mel- 
lowed into  golden  beams  of  soft  amber  light,  with  here 
and  there  a  shaft  of  crimson.  What  a  beautiful  expres- 
sion— perpetual  light!  As  Garth  sang  it,  each  syllable 
seemed  to  pierce  the  silence  like  a  ray  of  purest  sunlight. 
"  The  dulness  of — "  Jane  could  just  see  the  top  of  his 
dark  head  over  the  heavy  brocade  of  the  organ  curtain. 
She  dreaded  the  moment  when  he  should  turn,  and 
those  vivid  eyes  should  catch  sight  of  her — "our  blinded 
sight. "  How  would  he  take  what  she  must  say?  Would 
she  have  strength  to  come  through  a  long  hard  scene? 


Garth  Finds  the  Cross  113 

Would  he  be  tragically  heart-broken? — "Anoint  and 
cheer  our  soiled  face" —  Would  he  argue,  and  insist,  and 
override  her  judgment? —  "  With  the  abundance  of  Thy 
grace" —  Could  she  oppose  his  fierce  strength,  if  he 
chose  to  exert  it?  Would  they  either  of  them  come 
through  so  hard  a  time  without  wounding  each  other 
terribly? —  "  Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home" —  Oh! 
what  could  she  say?  What  would  he  say?  How  should 
she  answer?  What  reason  could  she  give  for  her  refusal 
which  Garth  would  ever  take  as  final? —  "  Where  Thou 
art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come." 

And  then,  after  a  few  soft,  impromptu  chords,  the 
theme  changed. 

Jane's  heart  stood  still.  Garth  was  playing  The 
Rosary.  He  did  not  sing  it;  but  the  soft  insistence 
of  the  organ  pipes  seemed  to  press  the  words  into  the 
air,  as  no  voice  could  have  done.  Memory's  pearls, 
in  all  the  purity  of  their  gleaming  preciousness,  were 
counted  one  by  one  by  the  flute  and  dulciana;  and  the 
sadder  tones  of  the  waldflute  proclaimed  the  finding  of  the 
cross.  It  all  held  a  new  meaning  for  Jane,  who  looked 
helplessly  round,  as  if  seeking  some  way  of  escape  from 
the  sad  sweetness  of  sound  which  filled  the  little  church. 

Suddenly  it  ceased.  Garth  stood  up,  turned,  and  saw 
her.    The  glory  of  a  great  joy  leaped  into  his  face. 

"All  right,  Jimmy,"  he  said;  "that  will  do  for  this 
morning.  And  here  is  a  bright  sixpence,  because  you 
have  managed  the  blowing  so  well.  Hullo!  It's  a 
shilling!  Never  mind.  You  shall  have  it  because  it 
is  such  a  glorious  day.  There  never  was  such  a  day, 
Jimmy;  and  I  want  you  to  be  happy  also.  Now  run  off 
quickly,  and  shut  the  church  door  behind  you,  my  boy. " 

Ah!  how  his  voice,  with  its  ring  of  buoyant  gladness, 
shook  her  soul. 


ii4  The  Rosary 

The  red-headed  boy,  rather  grubby,  with  a  whole 
pepper-pot  of  freckles,  but  a  beaming  face  of  pleasure, 
came  out  from  behind  the  organ,  clattered  down  a 
side  aisle,  dropped  his  shilling  on  the  way  and  had  to 
find  it;  but  at  last  went  out,  the  heavy  door  closing 
behind  him  with  a  resounding  clang. 

Garth  had  remained  standing  beside  the  organ,  quite 
motionless,  without"  looking  at  Jane,  and  now  that  they 
were  absolutely  alone  in  the  church,  he  still  stood  and 
waited  a  few  moments.  To  Jane  those  moments  seemed 
days ,  weeks ,  years ,  an  eternity .  Then  he  came  out  into  the 
centre  of  the  chancel,  his  head  erect,  his  eyes  shining, 
his  whole  bearing  that  of  a  conqueror  sure  of  his  victory. 

He  walked  down  to  the  quaintly  carved  oaken  screen 
and,  passing  beneath  it,  stood  at  the  step.  Then  he 
signed  to  Jane  to  come  and  stand  beside  him. 

"Here,  dearest,"  he  said;  "let  it  be  here." 

Jane  came  to  him,  and  for  a  moment  they  stood 
together,  looking  up  the  chancel.  It  was  darker  than 
the  rest  of  the  church,  being  lighted  only  by  three 
narrow  stained-glass  windows,  gems  of  colour  and  of 
significance.  The  centre  window,  immediately  over  the 
communion  table,  represented  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
dying  upon  the  cross.  They  gazed  at  it  in  reverent 
silence.    Then  Garth  turned  to  Jane. 

"My  beloved,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  sacred  Presence  and 
a  sacred  place.  But  no  place  could  be  too  sacred  for 
that  which  we  have  to  say  to  each  other,  and  the  Holy 
Presence,  in  which  we  both  believe,  is  here  to  bless  and 
ratify  it.    I  am  waiting  for  your  answer." 

Jane  cleared  her  throat  and  put  her  trembling  hands 
into  the  large  pockets  of  her  tweed  coat. 

"Dal,"  she  said,  "my  answer  is  a  question.  How 
old  are  you?" 


Garth  Finds  the  Cross  115 

She  felt  his  start  of  intense  surprise.  She  saw  the 
light  of  expectant  joy  fade  from  his  face.  But  he  re- 
plied, after  only  a  momentary  hesitation:  "I  thought 
you  knew,  dearest.    I  am  twenty-seven." 

"Well,"  said  Jane  slowly  and  deliberately,  "I  am 
thirty;  and  I  look  thirty-five,  and  feel  forty.  You  are 
twenty-seven,  Dal,  and  you  look  nineteen,  and  often 
feel  nine.  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,  and — you 
know — I  cannot  marry  a  mere  boy." 

Silence — absolute. 

In  sheer  terror  Jane  forced  herself  to  look  at  him. 
He  was  white  to  the  lips.  His  face  was  very  stern  and 
calm — a  strange,  stony  calmness.  There  was  not  much 
youth  in  it  just  then.  "Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled 
face" —  The  silent  church  seemed  to  wail  the  words  in 
bewildered  agony. 

At  last  he  spoke.  "I  had  not  thought  of  myself," 
he  said  slowly.  "I  cannot  explain  how  it  comes  to 
pass,  but  I  have  not  thought  of  myself  at  all,  since 
my  mind  has  been  full  of  you.  Therefore  I  had  not 
realised  how  little  there  is  in  me  that  you  could  care 
for.  I  believed  you  had  felt  as  I  did,  that  we  were — ■ 
just  each  other's."  For  a  moment  he  put  out  his  hand 
as  if  he  would  have  touched  her.  Then  it  dropped 
heavily  to  his  side.  "You  are  quite  right,"  he  said. 
'You  could  not  marry  any  one  whom  you  consider 
a  mere  boy." 

He  turned  from  her  and  faced  up  the  chancel.  For 
the  space  of  a  long  silent  minute  he  looked  at  the  window 
over  the  holy  table,  where  hung  the  suffering  Christ. 
Then  he  bowed  his  head.  "  I  accept  the  cross, "  he  said, 
and,  turning,  walked  quietly  down  the  aisle.  The 
church  door  opened,  closed  behind  him  with  a  heavy 
clang,  and  Jane  was  alone. 


n6  The  Rosary- 

She  stumbled  back  to  the  seat  she  had  left,  and  fell 

upon  her  knees. 

"0,  my  God,"  she  cried,  "send  him  back  to  me, 
oh,  send  him  back !  .  .  .  Oh,  Garth !  It  is  I  who  am  plain 
and  unattractive  and  unworthy,  not  you.  Oh,  Garth — 
come  back!  come  back!  come  back!  ...  I  will  trust 
and  not  be  afraid.  .  .  .  Oh,  my  own  Dear — comeback!" 

She  listened,  with  straining  ears.  She  waited,  until 
every  nerve  of  her  body  ached  with  suspense.  She 
decided  what  she  would  say  when  the  heavy  door 
reopened  and  she  saw  Garth  standing  in  a  shaft  of 
sunlight.  She  tried  to  remember  the  Veni,  but  the 
hollow  clang  of  the  door  had  silenced  even  memory's 
echo  of  that  haunting  music.  So  she  waited  silently, 
and  as  she  waited  the  silence  grew  and  seemed  to  enclose 
her  within  cruel,  relentless  walls  which  opened  only  to 
allow  her  glimpses  into  the  vista  of  future  lonely  years. 
Just  once  more  she  broke  that  silence.  "Oh,  darling, 
come  back!  I  will  risk  it, "  she  said.  But  no  step  drew 
near,  and,  kneeling  with  her  face  buried  in  her  clasped 
hands,  Jane  suddenly  realised  that  Garth  Dalmain  had 
accepted  her  decision  as  final  and  irrevocable,  and 
would  not  return. 

How  long  she  knelt  there  after  realising  this,  she 
never  knew.  But  at  last  comfort  came  to  her.  She 
felt  she  had  done  right.  A  few  hours  of  present  anguish 
were  better  than  years  of  future  disillusion.  Her  own 
life  would  be  sadly  empty,  and  losing  this  newly  found 
joy  was  costing  her  more  than  she  had  expected;  but 
she  honestly  believed  she  had  done  rightly  towards 
him,  and  what  did  her  own  pain  matter?  Thus  comfort 
came  to  Jane. 

At  last  she  rose  and  passed  out  of  the  silent  church 
into  the  breezy  sunshine. 


Garth  Finds  the  Cross  117 

Near  the  park  gates  a  little  knot  of  excited  boys 
were  preparing  to  fly  a  kite.  Jimmy,  the  hero  of  the 
hour,  the  centre  of  attraction,  proved  to  be  the  proud 
possessor  of  this  new  kite.  Jimmy  was  finding  the 
day  glorious  indeed,  and  was  being  happy.  "Happy 
also, "  Garth  had  said.  And  Jane's  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  as  she  remembered  the  word  and  the  tone  in 
which  it  was  spoken. 

"There  goes  my  poor  boy's  shilling,"  she  said  to 
herself  sadly,  as  the  kite  mounted  and  soared  above 
the  common;  "but,  alas,  where  is  his  joy?" 

As  she  passed  up  the  avenue  a  dog-cart  was  driven 
swiftly  down  it.  Garth  Dalmain  drove  it;  behind  him 
a  groom  and  a  portmanteau.  He  lifted  his  hat  as  he 
passed  her,  but  looked  straight  before  him.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  was  gone.  Had  Jane  wanted  to  stop  him  she 
could  not  have  done  so.  But  she  did  not  want  to  stop 
him.  She  felt  absolutely  satisfied  that  she  had  done  the 
right  thing,  and  done  it  at  greater  cost  to  herself  than  to 
him.  He  would  eventually — ah,  perhaps  before  so  very 
long — find  another  to  be  to  him  all,  and  more  than  all, 
he  had  believed  she  could  be.  But  she?  The  dull  ache 
at  her  bosom  reminded  her  of  her  own  words  the  night 
before,  whispered  in  the  secret  of  her  chamber  to  him 
who,  alas,  was  not  there  to  hear :  "  Whatever  the  future 
brings  for  you  and  me,  no  other  face  will  ever  be  hidden 
here. "  And,  in  this  first  hour  of  the  coming  lonely  years, 
she  knew  them  to  be  true. 

In  the  hall  she  met  Pauline  Lister. 

"Is  that  you,  Miss  Champion?"  said  Pauline.  "Well 
now,  have  you  heard  of  Mr.  Dalmain?  He  has  had  to  go 
to  town  unexpectedly,  on  the  1.15  train;  and  aunt  has 
dropped  her  false  teeth  on  her  marble  wash-stand  and 
must  get  to  the  dentist  right  away.    So  we  go  to  town 


n8  The  Rosary 

on  the  2.30.  It's  an  uncertain  world.  It  complicates 
one's  plans,  when  they  have  to  depend  on  other  people's 
teeth.  But  I  would  sooner  break  false  teeth  than  true 
hearts,  any  day.  One  can  get  the  former  mended,  but  I 
guess  no  one  can  mend  the  latter.  We  are  lunching  early 
in  our  rooms;  so  I  wish  you  good-by,  Miss  Champion." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  DOCTOR'S   PRESCRIPTION 

THE  Honourable  Jane  Champion  stood  on  the  sum 
mit  of  the  Great  P}'ramid  and  looked  around  her. 

The  four  exhausted  Arabs  whose  exertions,  com- 
bined with  her  own  activity,  had  placed  her  there, 
dropped  in  the  picturesque  attitudes  into  which  an 
Arab  falls  by  nature.  They  had  hoisted  the  Honourable 
Jane's  eleven  stone  ten  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  in 
record  time,  and  now  lay  around,  proud  of  their  achieve- 
ment and  sure  of  their  "backsheesh." 

The  whole  thing  had  gone  as  if  by  clock-work.  Two 
mahogany-coloured,  finely  proportioned  fellows,  in 
scanty  white  garments,  sprang  with  the  ease  of  ante- 
lopes to  the  top  of  a  high  step,  turning  to  reach  down 
eagerly  and  seize  Jane's  upstretched  hands.  One  re- 
mained behind,  unseen  but  indispensable,  to  lend  timely 
aid  at  exactly  the  right  moment.  Then  came  the  appar- 
ently impossible  task  for  Jane,  of  placing  the  sole  of  her 
foot  on  the  edge  of  a  stone  four  feet  above  the  one  upon 
which  she  was  standing.  It  seemed  rather  like  stepping 
up  on  to  the  drawing-room  mantelpiece.  But  encour- 
aged by  cries  of  "Eiwa!  Eiwa!"  she  did  it;  when  in- 
stantly a  voice  behind  said,  "Tyeb!"  two  voices  above 
shouted,  "Keteer!"  the  grip  on  her  hands  tightened,  the 
Arab  behind  hoisted,  and  Jane  had  stepped  up,  with  an 
ease  which  surprised  herself.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  under 
those  circumstances  the  impossible  thing  would  have 
been  not  to  have  stepped  up. 

Arab   number    four    was   water-carrier,   and   offered 

119 


120  The  Rosary 

water  from  a  gourd  at  intervals;  and  once,  when  Jane 
had  to  cry  halt  for  a  few  minutes'  breathing  space, 
Schehati,  handsomest  of  all,  and  leader  of  the  enter- 
prise, offered  to  recite  English  Shakespeare-poetry.  This 
proved  to  be: 

"Jack-an-Jill 
Went  uppy  hill, 
To  fetchy  paily  water; 
Jack  fell  down-an 
Broke  his  crown-an 
Jill  came  tumbling  after." 

Jane  had  laughed;  and  Schehati,  encouraged  by  the 
success  of  his  attempt  to  edify  and  amuse,  used  lines 
of  the  immortal  nursery  epic  as  signals  for  united  action 
during  the  remainder  of  the  climb.  Therefore  Jane 
mounted  one  step  to  the  fact  that  Jack  fell  down,  and 
scaled  the  next  to  information  as  to  the  serious  nature 
of  his  injuries,  and  at  the  third,  Schehati,  bending  over, 
confidentially  mentioned  in  her  ear,  while  AH  shoved 
behind,  that  "Jill  came  tumbling  after." 

The  familiar  words,  heard  under  such  novel  cir- 
cumstances, took  on  fresh  meaning.  Jane  commenced 
speculating  as  to  whether  the  downfall  of  Jack  need 
necessarily  have  caused  so  complete  a  loss  of  self-control 
and  equilibrium  on  the  part  of  Jill.  Would  she  not  have 
proved  her  devotion  better  by  bringing  the  mutual  pail 
safely  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  there  attending  to 
the  wounds  of  her  fallen  hero?  Jane,  in  her  time,  had 
witnessed  the  tragic  downfall  of  various  delightful  Jacks, 
and  had  herself  ministered  tenderly  to  their  broken 
crowns ;  for  in  each  case  the  Jill  had  remained  on  the  top 
of  the  hill,  flirting  with  that  objectionable  person  of  the 
name  of  Horner,  whose  cool,  calculating  way  of  setting 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  121 

to  work — so  unlike  poor  Jack's  headlong  method — in- 
variably secured  him  the  plum;  upon  which  he  remarked: 
"What  a  good  boy  am  I!"  and  was  usually  taken  at  his 
own  smug  valuation.  But  Jane's  entire  sympathy  on 
these  occasions  was  with  the  defeated  lover,  and  more 
than  one  Jack  was  now  on  his  feet  again,  bravely  facing 
life,  because  that  kind  hand  had  been  held  out  to  him  as 
he  lay  in  his  valley  of  humiliation,  and  that  comprehend- 
ing sympathy  had  proved  balm  to  his  broken  crown. 

"Dickery,  dickery,  dock!"  chanted  Schehati  sol- 
emnly, as  he  hauled  again;  "Moses  ran  up  the  clock. 
The  clock  struck  'one' " 

The  clock  struck  ''one"? — It  was  nearly  three  years 
since  that  night  at  Shenstone  when  the  clock  had  struck 
"one,"  and  Jane  had  arrived  at  her  decision, — the  de- 
cision which  precipitated  her  Jack  from  his  Pisgah  of 
future  promise.  And  yet — no.  He  had  not  fallen 
before  the  blow.  He  had  taken  it  erect,  and  his  light 
step  had  been  even  firmer  than  usual  as  he  walked  down 
the  church  and  left  her,  after  quietly  and  deliberately 
accepting  her  decision.  It  was  Jane  herself,  left  alone, 
who  fell  hopelessly  over  the  pail.  She  shivered  even 
now  when  she  remembered  how  its  icy  waters  drenched 
her  heart.  Ah,  what  would  have  happened  if  Garth  had 
come  back  in  answer  to  her  cry  during  those  first  mo- 
ments of  intolerable  suffering  and  loneliness?  But  Garth 
was  not  the  sort  of  man  who,  when  a  door  has  been  shut 
upon  him,  waits  on  the  mat  outside,  hoping  to  be  re- 
called. When  she  put  him  from  her,  and  he  realised  that 
she  meant  it  he  passed  completely  out  of  her  life.  He 
was  at  the  railway  station  by  the  time  she  reached  the 
house,  and  from  that  day  to  this  they  had  never  met. 
Garth  evidently  considered  the  avoidance  of  meetings 
to  be  his  responsibility,  and  he  never  failed  her  in  this. 


122  The  Rosary 

Once  or  twice  she  went  on  a  visit  to  houses  where  she 
knew  him  to  be  staying.  He  always  happened  to  have 
left  that  morning,  if  she  arrived  in  time  for  luncheon; 
or  by  an  early  afternoon  train,  if  she  was  due  for  tea.  He 
never  timed  it  so  that  there  should  be  tragic  passings 
of  each  other,  with  set  faces,  at  the  railway  stations ;  or  a 
formal  word  of  greeting  as  she  arrived  and  he  departed, — 
just  enough  to  awaken  all  the  slumbering  pain  and  set 
people  wondering.  Jane  remembered  with  shame  that 
this  was  the  sort  of  picturesque  tragedy  she  would  have 
expected  from  Garth  Dalmain.  But  the  man  who  had 
surprised  her  by  his  dignified  acquiescence  in  her  decision, 
continued  to  surprise  her  by  the  strength  with  which  he 
silently  accepted  it  as  final  and  kept  out  of  her  way. 
Jane  had  not  probed  the  depth  of  the  wound  she  had 
inflicted. 

Never  once  was  his  departure  connected,  in  the 
minds  of  others,  with  her  arrival.  There  was  always 
some  excellent  and  perfectly  natural  reason  why  he 
had  been  obliged  to  leave,  and  he  was  openly  talked 
of  and  regretted,  and  Jane  heard  all  the  latest  "Dal 
stories,"  and  found  herself  surrounded  by  the  atmos- 
phere of  his  exotic,  beauty-loving  nature.  And  there 
was  usually  a  girl — always  the  loveliest  of  the  party — 
confidentially  pointed  out  to  Jane,  by  the  rest,  as  a 
certainty,  if  only  Dal  had  had  another  twenty-four 
hours  of  her  society.  But  the  girl  herself  would  appear 
quite  heart-whole,  only  very  full  of  an  evidently  de- 
lightful friendship,  expressing  all  Dai's  ideas  on  art 
and  colour,  as  her  own,  and  confidently  happy  in  an 
assured  sense  of  her  own  loveliness  and  charm  and 
power  to  please.  Never  did  he  leave  behind  him  traces 
which  the  woman  who  loved  him  regretted  to  find. 
But   he   was   always   gone — irrevocably   gone.      Garth 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  123 

Dalmain  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  wait  on  the  door-mat 
of  a  woman's  indecision. 

Neither  did  this  Jack  of  hers  break  his  crown.  His 
portrait  of  Pauline  Lister,  painted  six  months  after 
the  Shenstone  visit,  had  proved  the  finest  bit  of  work 
he  had  as  yet  accomplished.  He  had  painted  the  lovely 
American,  in  creamy  white  satin,  standing  on  a  dark 
oak  staircase,  one  hand  resting  on  the  balustrade,  the 
other,  full  of  yellow  roses,  held  out  towards  an  unseen 
friend  below.  Behind  and  above  her  shone  a  stained- 
glass  window,  centuries  old,  the  arms,  crest,  and  mottoes 
of  the  noble  family  to  whom  the  place  belonged,  shining 
thereon  in  rose-coloured  and  golden  glass.  He  had 
wonderfully  caught  the  charm  and  vivacity  of  the  girl. 
She  was  gaily  up-to-date,  and  frankly  American,  from 
the  crown  of  her  queenly  little  head,  to  the  point  of  her 
satin  shoe;  and  the  suggestiveness  of  placing  her  in 
surroundings  which  breathed  an  atmosphere  of  the  best 
traditions  of  England's  ancient  ancestral  homes,  the 
fearless  wedding  of  the  new  world  with  the  old,  the 
putting  of  this  sparkling  gem  from  the  new  into  the  beau- 
tiful mellow  setting  of  the  old  and  there  showing  it 
at  its  best, — all  this  was  the  making  of  the  picture. 
People  smiled,  and  said  the  painter  had  done  on  canvas 
what  he  shortly  intended  doing  in  reality;  but  the  tie 
between  artist  and  sitter  never  grew  into  anything  closer 
than  a  pleasant  friendship,  and  it  was  the  noble  owner  of 
the  staircase  and  window  who  eventually  persuaded  Miss 
Lister  to  remain  in  surroundings  which  suited  her  so 
admirably. 

One  story  about  that  portrait  Jane  had  heard  dis- 
cussed more  than  once  in  circles  where  both  were  known. 
Pauline  Lister  had  come  to  the  first  sittings  wearing 
her  beautiful  string  of  pearls,  and  Garth  had  painted 


124  The  Rosary 

them  wonderfully,  spending  hours  over  the  delicate 
perfecting  of  each  separate  gleaming  drop.  Suddenly 
oa«  day  he  seized  his  palette-knife,  scraped  the  whole 
necklace  off  the  canvas  with  a  stroke  and,  declared  she 
must  wear  her  rose-topazes  in  order  to  carry  out  his 
scheme  of  colour.  She  was  wearing  her  rose-topazes 
when  Jane  saw  the  picture  in  the  Academy,  and  very 
lovely  they  looked  on  the  delicate  whiteness  of  her  neck. 
But  people  who  had  seen  Garth's  painting  of  the  pearls 
maintained  that  that  scrape  of  the  palette-knife  had 
destroyed  work  which  would  have  been  the  talk  of  the 
year.  And  Pauline  Lister,  just  after  it  had  happened, 
was  reported  to  have  said,  with  a  shrug  of  her  pretty 
shoulders:  "Schemes  of  colour  are  all  very  well.  But  he 
scraped  my  pearls  off  the  canvas  because  some  one  who 
came  in  hummed  a  tune  while  looking  at  the  picture.  I 
would  be  obliged  if  people  who  walk  around  the  studio 
while  I  am  being  painted  will  in  future  refrain  from 
humming  tunes.  I  don't  want  him  to  scoop  off  my  top- 
azes and  call  for  my  emeralds.  Also  I  feel  like  offering  a 
reward  for  the  discovery  of  that  tune.  I  want  to  know 
what  it  has  to  do  with  my  scheme  of  colour,  anyway." 
When  Jane  heard  the  story,  she  was  spending  a  few 
days  with  the  Brands  in  Wimpole  Street.  It  was  told 
at  tea,  in  Lady  Brand's  pretty  boudoir.  The  duchess's 
concert,  at  which  Garth  had  heard  her  sing  The  Rosary, 
was  a  thing  of  the  past.  Nearly  a  year  had  elapsed 
since  their  final  parting,  and  this  was  the  very  first 
thought  or  word  or  sign  of  his  remembrance,  which 
directly  or  indirectly,  had  come  her  way.  She  could  not 
doubt  that  the  tune  hummed  had  been  The  Rosary. 

"The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  me; 
I  count  them  over,  every  one,  apart." 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  125 

She  seemed  to  hear  Garth's  voice  on  the  terrace,  as 
she  heard  it  in  those  first  startled  moments  of  realising 
the  gift  which  was  being  laid  at  her  feet — "I  have 
learned  to  count  pearls,  beloved." 

Jane's  heart  was  growing  cold  and  frozen  in  its  empti- 
ness. This  incident  of  the  studio  warmed  and  woke  it 
for  the  moment,  and  with  the  waking  came  sharp  pain. 
When  the  visitors  had  left,  and  Lady  Brand  had  gone 
to  the  nursery,  she  walked  over  to  the  piano,  sat  down, 
and  softly  played  the  accompaniment  of  The  Rosary. 
The  fine  unexpected  chords,  full  of  discords  working 
into  harmony,  seemed  to  suit  her  mood  and  her  memories. 

Suddenly  a  voice  behind  her  said:  "Sing  it,  Jane." 
She  turned  quickly.  The  doctor  had  come  in,  and  was 
lying  back  luxuriously  in  a  large  arm-chair  at  her  elbow, 
his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head.  "Sing  it,  Jane,"  he 
said. 

"I  can't,  Deryck,"  she  answered,  still  softly  sounding 
the  chords.    "I  have  not  sung  for  months. " 

"What  has  been  the  matter — for  months?" 

Jane  took  her  hands  off  the  keys,  and  swung  round 
impulsively. 

"Oh,  boy,"  she  said.  "I  have  made  a  bad  mess  of 
my  life!  And  yet  I  know  I  did  right.  I  would  do  the 
same  again;  at  least — at  least,  I  hope  I  would." 

The  doctor  sat  in  silence  for  a  minute,  looking  at 
her  and  pondering  these  short,  quick  sentences.  Also 
he  waited  for  more,  knowing  it  would  come  more  easily 
if  he  waited  silently. 

It  came. 

"Boy — I  gave  up  something,  which  was  more  than 
life  itself  to  me,  for  the  sake  of  another,  and  I  can't 
get  over  it.  I  know  I  did  right,  and  yet — I  can't  get 
over  it." 


126  The  Rosary 

The  doctor  leaned  forward  and  took  the  clenched 
hands  between  his. 

"Can  you  tell  me  about  it,  Jeanette?" 

"I  can  tell  no  one,  Deryck;  not  even  you." 

"If  ever  you  find  you  must  tell  some  one,  Jane, 
will  you  promise  to  come  to  me?" 

"Gladly." 

"Good!  Now,  my  dear  girl,  here  is  a  prescription 
for  you.  Go  abroad.  And,  mind,  I  do  not  mean  by 
that,  just  to  Paris  and  back,  or  Switzerland  this  sum- 
mer, and  the  Riviera  in  the  autumn.  Go  to  America 
and  see  a  few  big  things.  See  Niagara.  And  all  your 
life  afterwards,  when  trivialities  are  trying  you,  you 
will  love  to  let  your  mind  go  back  to  the  vast  green  mass 
of  water  sweeping  over  the  falls ;  to  the  thunderous  roar, 
and  the  upward  rush  of  spray;  to  the  huge  perpetual 
onwardness  of  it  all.  You  will  like  to  remember,  when 
you  are  bothering  about  pouring  water  in  and  out  of 
teacups,  'Niagara  is  flowing  still.'  Stay  in  a  hotel  so 
near  the  falls  that  you  can  hear  their  great  voice  night 
and  day,  thundering  out  themes  of  power  and  progress. 
Spend  hours  walking  round  and  viewing  it  from  every 
point.  Go  to  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  across  the  frail 
bridges,  where  the  guide  will  turn  and  shout  to  you: 
'Are  your  rings  on  tight?'  Learn,  in  passing,  the  true 
meaning  of  the  Rock  of  Ages.  Receive  Niagara  into 
your  life  and  soul  as  a  possession,  and  thank  God  for  it. 

"Then  go  in  for  other  big  things  in  America.  Try 
spirituality  and  humanity;  love  and  life.  Seek  out 
Mrs.  Ballington  Booth,  the  great  'Little  Mother'  of 
all  American  prisoners.  I  know  her  well,  I  am  proud 
tc  say,  and  can  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction.  Ask 
her  to  take  you  with  her  to  Sing-Sing,  or  to  Columbus 
State  Prison,  and  to  let  you  hear  her  address  an  audi- 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  127 

ence  of  two  thousand  convicts,  holding  out  to  them 
the  gospel  of  hope  and  love, — her  own  inspired  and 
inspiring  belief  in  fresh  possibilities  even  for  the  most 
despairing. 

"Go  to  New  York  City  and  see  how,  when  a  man 
wants  a  big  building  and  has  only  a  small  plot  of  ground, 
he  makes  the  most  of  that  ground  by  running  his  building 
up  into  the  sky.  Learn  to  do  likewise. — And  then, 
when  the  great-souled,  large-hearted,  rapid-minded 
people  of  America  have  waked  you  to  enthusiasm  with 
their  bigness,  go  off  to  Japan  and  see  a  little  people 
nobly  doing  their  best  to  become  great. — Then  to 
Palestine,  and  spend  months  in  tracing  the  footsteps 
of  the  greatest  human  life  ever  lived.  Take  Egypt  on 
your  way  home,  just  to  remind  yourself  that  there  are 
still,  in  this  very  modern  world  of  ours,  a  few  passably 
ancient  things, — a  well-preserved  wooden  man,  for  in- 
stance, with  eyes  of  opaque  white  quartz,  a  piece  of  rock 
crystal  in  the  centre  for  a  pupil.  These  glittering  eyes 
looked  out  upon  the  world  from  beneath  their  eyelids 
of  bronze,  in  the  time  of  Abraham.  You  will  find  it  in 
the  museum  at  Cairo.  Ride  a  donkey  in  the  Mooskee 
if  you  want  real  sport;  and  if  you  feel  a  little  slack, 
climb  the  Great  Pyramid.  Ask  for  an  Arab  named 
Schehati,  and  tell  him  you  want  to  do  it  one  minute 
quicker  than  any  lady  has  ever  done  it  before. 

"Then  come  home,  my  dear  girl,  ring  me  up  and  ask 
for  an  appointment;  or  chance  it,  and  let  Stoddart  slip 
you  into  my  consulting-room  between  patients,  and 
report  how  the  prescription  has  worked.  I  never  gave 
a  better;  and  you  need  not  offer  me  a  guinea!  I  attend 
old  friends  gratis. " 

Jane  laughed,  and  gripped  his  hand.  "Oh,  boy," 
she  said,  "I  believe  you  are  right.     My  whole  ideas  of 


128  The  Rosary 

Kfe  have  been  focussed  on  myself  and  my  own  individ- 
ual pains  and  losses.  I  will  do  as  you  say;  and  God 
bless  you  for  saying  it. — Here  comes  Flower.  Flower, " 
she  said,  as  the  doctor's  wife  trailed  in,  wearing  a  soft 
tea-gown,  and  turning  on  the  electric  lights  as  she 
passed,  "will  this  boy  of  ours  ever  grow  old?  Here  he  is, 
seriously  advising  that  a  stout,  middle-aged  woman 
should  climb  the  Great  Pyramid  as  a  cure  for  depression, 
and  do  it  in  record  time!" 

"Darling,"  said  the  doctor's  wife,  seating  herself  on 
the  arm  of  his  chair,  "whom  have  you  been  seeing  who 
Ss  stout,  or  depressed,  or  middle-aged?  If  you  mean 
Mrs.  Parker  Bangs,  she  is  not  middle-aged,  because  she 
is  an  American,  and  no  American  is  ever  middle-aged. 
And  she  is  only  depressed  because,  even  after  painting 
her  lovely  niece's  portrait,  Garth  Dalmain  has  failed 
to  propose  to  her.  And  it  is  no  good  advising  her  to  climb 
the  Great  Pyramid,  though  she  is  doing  Egypt  this 
winter,  because  I  heard  her  say  yesterday  that  she  should 
never  think  of  going  up  the  pyramids  until  the  children 
of  Israel,  or  whoever  the  natives  are  who  live  around 
those  parts,  have  the  sense  to  put  an  elevator  right  up  the 
centre." 

Jane  and  the  doctor  laughed,  and  Flower,  settling 
herself  more  comfortably,  for  the  doctor's  arm  had 
stolen  around  her,  said:  "Jane,  I  heard  you  playing 
The  Rosary  just  now,  such  a  favourite  of  mine,  and 
it  is  months  since  I  heard  it.    Do  sing  it,  dear. " 

Jane  met  the  doctor's  eyes  and  smiled  reassuringly; 
then  turned  without  any  hesitation  and  did  as  Flower 
asked.    The  prescription  had  already  done  her  good. 

At  the  last  words  of  the  song  the  doctor's  wife  bent 
over  and  laid  a  tender  little  kiss  just  above  his  temple, 
where  the  thick  dark  hair  was  streaked  with  silver. 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  129 

But  the  doctor's  mind  was  intent  on  Jane,  and  before 
the  final  chords  were  struck  he  knew  he  had  diagnosed 
her  case  correctly.  "But  she  had  better  go  abroad, "  he 
thought.  "It  will  take  her  mind  off  herself  altogether, 
giving  her  a  larger  view  of  things  in  genwal,  and  a  better 
proportioned  view  of  things  in  particular.  And  the  boy 
won't  change;  or,  if  he  does,  Jane  will  be  proved  right, 
to  her  own  satisfaction.  But,  if  this  is  her  side,  good 
heavens,  what  must  his  be!  I  had  wondered  what  was 
sapping  all  his  buoyant  youthfulness.  To  care  for  Jane 
would  be  an  education;  but  to  have  made  Jane  care! 
And  then  to  have  lost  her !  He  must  have  nerves  of  steel, 
to  be  facing  life  at  all.  What  is  this  cross  they  are  both 
learning  to  kiss,  and  holding  up  between  them?  Per- 
haps Niagara  will  sweep  it  away,  and  she  will  cable  him 
from  there." 

Then  the  doctor  took  the  dear  little  hand  resting  on 
his  shoulder  and  kissed  it  softly,  while  Jane's  back  was 
still  turned.  For  the  doctor  had  had  past  experience 
of  the  cross,  and  now  the  pearls  were  very  precious. 

So  Jane  took  the  prescription,  and  two  years  went 
by  in  the  taking;  and  here  she  was,  on  the  top  of  the 
Great  Pyramid,  and,  moreover,  she  had  done  it  in 
record  time,  and  laughed  as  she  thought  of  how  she 
should  report  the  fact  to  Deryck. 

Her  Arabs  lay  around,  very  hot  and  shiny,  and 
content.  Large  backsheesh  was  assured,  and  they  looked 
up  at  her  with  pleased  possessive  eyes,  as  an  achieve- 
ment of  their  own;  hardly  realising  how  large  a  part  her 
finely  developed  athletic  powers  and  elastic  limbs  had 
played  in  the  speed  of  the  ascent. 

And  Jane  stood  there,  sound  in  wind  and  limb,  and 
with  the  exhilarating  sense,  always  helpful  to  the  mind, 
of  a  bodily  feat  accomplished. 


ISO  The  Rosary 

She  was  looking  her  best  in  her  Norfolk  coat  and 
skirt  of  brown  tweed  with  hints  of  green  and  orange 
in  it,  plenty  of  useful  pockets  piped  with  leather,  leather 
buttons,  and  a  broad  band  of  leather  round  the  bottom 
of  the  skirt.  A  connoisseur  would  have  named  at  once 
the  one  and  only  firm  from  which  that  costume  could 
have  come,  and  the  hatter  who  supplied  the  soft  green 
Tyrolian  hat — for  Jane  scorned  pith  helmets — which 
matched  it  so  admirably.  But  Schehati  was  no  con- 
noisseur of  clothing,  though  a  pretty  shrewd  judge  of 
ways  and  manners,  and  he  summed  up  Jane  thus: 
"Nice  gentleman-lady!  Give  good  backsheesh,  and  not 
sit  down  halfway  and  say:  'No  top'!  But  real  lady- 
gentleman!  Give  backsheesh  with  kind  face,  and  not 
send  poor  Arab  to  Assouan. " 

Jane  was  deeply  tanned  by  the  Eastern  sun.  Burn- 
ing a  splendid  brown,  and  enjoying  the  process,  she 
had  no  need  of  veils  or  parasols;  and  her  strong  eyes 
faced  the  golden  light  of  the  desert  without  the  aid  of 
smoked  glasses.  She  had  once  heard  Garth  remark 
that  a  sight  which  made  him  feel  really  ill,  was  the 
back  view  of  a  woman  in  a  motor-veil,  and  Jane  had 
laughingly  agreed,  for  to  her  veils  of  any  kind  had 
always  seemed  superfluous.  The  heavy  coils  of  her 
brown  hair  never  blew  about  into  fascinating  little 
curls  and  wisps,  but  remained  where,  with  a  few  well- 
directed  hairpins,  she  each  morning  solidly  placed 
them. 

Jane  had  never  looked  better  than  she  did  on  this 
March  day,  standing  on  the  summit  of  the  Great 
Pyramid.  Strong,  brown,  and  well-knit,  a  reliable  mind 
in  a  capable  body,  the  undeniable  plainness  of  her  face 
redeemed  by  its  kindly  expression  of  interest  and  en- 
joyment; her  wide,   pleasant  smile  revealing  her  fine 


The  Doctor's  Prescription  131 

white  teeth,  witnesses  to  her  perfect  soundness  and 
health,  within  and  without. 

"Nice  gentleman-lady,"  murmured  Schehati  again; 
and  had  Jane  overheard  the  remark  it  would  not  have 
offended  her;  for,  though  she  held  a  masculine  woman 
only  one  degree  less  in  abhorrence  than  an  effeminate 
man,  she  would  have  taken  Schehati's  compound  noun 
as  a  tribute  to  the  fact  that  she  was  well-groomed  and 
independent,  knowing  her  own  mind,  and,  when  she 
started  out  to  go  to  a  place,  reaching  it  in  the  shortest 
possible  time,  without  fidget,  fuss,  or  flurry.  These 
three  feminine  attributes  were  held  in  scorn  by  Jane, 
who  knew  herself  so  deeply  womanly  that  she  could 
afford  in  minor  ways  to  be  frankly  unfeminine. 

The  doctor's  prescription  had  worked  admirably.  That 
look  of  falling  to  pieces  and  ageing  prematurely — a 
general  dilapidation  of  mind  and  body — which  it  had 
grieved  and  startled  him  to  see  in  Jane  as  she  sat  before 
him  on  the  music-stool,  was  gone  completely.  She 
looked  a  calm,  pleasant  thirty;  ready  to  go  happily  on, 
year  by  year,  towards  an  equally  agreeable  and  delight- 
ful forty;  and  not  afraid  of  fifty,  when  that  time  should 
come.  Her  clear  eyes  looked  frankly  out  upon  the  world, 
and  her  sane  mind  formed  sound  opinions  and  pro- 
nounced fair  judgments,  tempered  by  the  kindliness  of 
an  unusually  large  and  generous  heart. 

Just  now  she  was  considering  the  view  and  finding 
it  very  good.    Its  strong  contrasts  held  her. 

On  one  side  lay  the  fertile  Delta,  with  its  groves  of 
waving  palm,  orange,  and  olive  trees,  growing  in  rich 
profusion  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  a  broad  band  of 
gleaming  silver.  On  the  other,  the  Desert,  with  its 
far-distant  horizon,  stretching  away  in  undulations 
of  golden  sand;  not  a  tree,  not  a  leaf,  not  a  blade  of 


S32  The  Rosary 

grass,  but  boundless  liberty,  an  ocean  of  solid  golden 
glory.  For  the  sun  was  setting,  and  the  sky  flamed  into 
colour. 

"A  parting  of  the  ways,"  said  Jane;  "a  place  of 
choice.  How  difficult  to  know  which  to  choose — liberty 
or  fruitfulness.  One  would  have  to  consult  the  Sphinx — 
wise  old  guardian  of  the  ages,  silent  keeper  of  Time's 
secrets,  gazing  on  into  the  future  as  It  has  always  gazed, 
while  future  became  present,  and  present  glided  into 
past. — Come,  Schehati,  let  us  descend.  Oh,  yes,  I  will 
certainly  sit  upon  the  stone  on  which  the  King  sat  when 
lie  was  Prince  of  Wales.  Thank  you  for  mentioning  it. 
It  will  supply  a  delightful  topic  of  conversation  next 
time  I  am  honoured  by  a  few  minutes  of  his  gracious 
Majesty's  attention,  and  will  save  me  from  floundering 
into  trite  remarks  about  the  weather. — And  now  take 
me  to  the  Sphinx,  Schehati.  There  is  a  question  I  would 
ask  of  It,  just  as  the  sun  dips  below  the  horizon. " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  ANSWER   OF   THE   SPHINX 

MOONLIGHT  in  the  desert. 
Jane  ordered  her  after-dinner  coffee  on  the 
piazza  of  the  hotel,  that  she  might  lose  as  little  as  possi- 
ble of  the  mystic  loveliness  of  the  night.  The  pyramids 
appeared  so  huge  and  solid,  in  the  clear  white  light; 
and  the  Sphinx  gathered  unto  itself  more  mystery. 

Jane  promised  herself  a  stroll  round  by  moonlight 
presently.  Meanwhile  she  lay  back  in  a  low  wicker 
chair,  comfortably  upholstered,  sipping  her  coffee,  and 
giving  herself  up  to  the  sense  of  dreamy  content  which, 
in  a  healthy  body,  is  apt  to  follow  vigorous  exertion. 

Very  tender  and  quiet  thoughts  of  Garth  came 
to  her  this  evening,  perhaps  brought  about  by  the 
associations  of  moonlight. 

"The  moon  shines  bright: — in  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 
And  they  did  make  no  noise " 

Ah!  the  great  poet  knew  the  effect  upon  the  heart 
of  a  vivid  reminder  to  the  senses.  Jane  now  passed 
beneath  the  spell. 

To  begin  with,  Garth's  voice  seemed  singing  every- 
where: 

"  Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight. " 

Then  from  out  the  deep  blue  and  silvery  light,  Garth's 
dear  adoring  eyes  seemed  watching  her.     Jane  closed 

i33 


134  The  Rosary 

her  own,  to  see  them  better.  To-night  she  did  not 
feel  like  shrinking  from  them,  they  were  so  full  of  love. 

No  shade  of  critical  regard  was  in  them.  Ah!  had 
she  wronged  him  with  her  fears  for  the  future?  Her 
heart  seemed  fujl  of  trust  to-night,  full  of  confidence 
in  him  and  in  herself.  It  seemed  to  her  that  if  he  were 
here  she  could  go  out  with  him  into  this  brilliant  moon- 
light, seat  herself  upon  some  ancient  fallen  stone,  and 
let  him  kneel  in  front  of  her  and  gaze  and  gaze  in  his 
persistent  way,  as  much  as  he  pleased.  In  thought 
there  seemed  to-night  no  shrinking  from  those  dear 
eyes.  She  felt  she  would  say:  "It  is  all  your  own, 
Garth,  to  look  at  when  you  will.  For  your  sake,  I 
could  wish  it  beautiful;  but  if  it  is  as  you  like  it,  my 
own  Dear,  why  should  I  hide  it  from  you?" 

What  had  brought  about  this  change  of  mind? 
Had  Deryck's  prescription  done  its  full  work?  Was 
this  a  saner  point  of  view  than  the  one  she  had  felt 
constrained  to  take  when  she  arrived,  through  so  much 
agony  of  renunciation,  at  her  decision?  Instead  of 
going  up  the  Nile,  and  then  to  Constantinople  and 
Athens,  should  she  take  the  steamer  which  sailed  from 
Alexandria  to-morrow,  be  in  London  a  week  hence, 
send  for  Garth,  make  full  confession,  and  let  him 
decide  as  to  their  future? 

That  he  loved  her  still,  it  never  occurred  to  Jane  to 
doubt.  At  the  very  thought  of  sending  for  him  and 
telling  him  the  simple  truth,  he  seemed  so  near  her 
once  more,  that  she  could  feel  the  clasp  of  his  arms, 
and  his  head  upon  her  heart.  And  those  dear  shining 
eyes!    Oh,  Garth,  Garth! 

"One  thing  is  clear  to  me  to-night,"  thought  Jane. 
"If  he  still  needs  me — wants  me — I  cannot  live  any 
longer  away  from  him.    I  must  go  to  him. "    She  opened 


The  Answer  of  the  Sphinx  135 

her  eyes  and  looked  towards  the  Sphinx.  The  whole 
line  of  reasoning  which  had  carried  such  weight  at 
Shenstone  flashed  through  her  mind  in  twenty  seconds. 
Then  she  closed  her  eyes  again  and  clasped  her  hands 
upon  her  bosom. 

"I  will  risk  it,"  she  said;  and  deep  joy  awoke  within 
her  heart. 

A  party  of  English  people  came  from  the  dining- 
room  on  to  the  piazza  with  a  clatter.  They  had  arrived 
that  evening  and  gone  in  late  to  dinner.  Jane  had 
hardly  noticed  them, — a  handsome  woman  and  her 
daughter,  two  young  men,  and  an  older  man  of  military 
appearance.  They  did  not  interest  Jane,  but  they 
broke  in  upon  her  reverie;  for  they  seated  themselves 
at  a  table  near  by  and,  in  truly  British  fashion,  con- 
tinued a  loud-voiced  conversation,  as  if  no  one  else  were 
present.  One  or  two  foreigners,  who  had  been  peace- 
fully dreaming  over  coffee  and  cigarettes,  rose  and 
strolled  away  to  quiet  seats  under  the  palm  trees. 
Jane  would  have  done  the  same,  but  she  really  felt  too 
comfortable  to  move,  and  afraid  of  losing  the  sweet 
sense  of  Garth's  nearness.  So  she  remained  where  she  was. 

The  elderly  man  held  in  his  hand  a  letter  and  a  copy 
of  the  Morning  Post,  just  received  from  England.  They 
were  discussing  news  contained  in  the  letter  and  a 
paragraph  he  had  been  reading  aloud  from  the  paper. 

"Poor  fellow!  How  too  sad!"  said  the  chaperon  of 
the  party. 

"I  should  think  he  would  sooner  have  been  killed 
outright!"  exclaimed  the  girl.    "I  know  I  would." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  one  of  the  young  men,  leaning  towards 
her.    "Life  is  sweet,  under  any  circumstances." 

"Oh,  but  blind!"  cried  the  young  voice,  with  a  shud- 
der.    "Quite  blind  for  the  rest  of  one's  life.     Horrible! " 


136  The  Rosary 

"Was  it  his  own  gun?"  asked  the  older  woman. 
"And  how  came  they  to  be  having  a  shooting  party 
in  March?" 

Jane  smiled  a  fierce  smile  into  the  moonlight.  Pas- 
donate  love  of  animal  life,  intense  regard  for  all  life, 
even  of  the  tiniest  insect,  was  as  much  a  religion  with 
her  as  the  worship  of  beauty  was  with  Garth.  She 
never  could  pretend  sorrow  over  these  accounts  of 
shooting  accidents,  or  falls  in  the  hunting-field.  When 
those  who  went  out  to  inflict  cruel  pain  were  hurt 
themselves;  when  those  who  went  forth  to  take  eager, 
palpitating  life,  lost  their  own;  it  seemed  to  Jane  a 
just  retribution.  She  felt  no  regret,  and  pretended 
none.  So  now  she  smiled  fiercely  to  herself,  thinking: 
"One  pair  of  eyes  the  less  to  look  along  a  gun  and 
frustrate  the  despairing  dash  for  home  and  little  ones 
of  a  terrified  little  mother  rabbit.  One  hand  that  will 
never  again  change  a  soaring  upward  flight  of  spread- 
ing wings,  into  an  agonised  mass  of  falling  feathers. 
One  chance  to  the  good,  for  the  noble  stag,  as  he  makes 
a  brave  run  to  join  his  hinds  in  the  valley. " 

Meanwhile  the  military-looking  man  had  readjusted 
his  eye-glasses  and  was  holding  the  sheets  of  a  closely 
written  letter  to  the  light. 

"No,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "shooting  parties  are 
over.  There  is  nothing  doing  on  the  moors  now.  They 
were  potting  bunnies." 

"Was  he  shooting?"  asked  the  girl. 

"No,"  replied  the  owner  of  the  letter,  "and  that 
seems  such  hard  luck.  He  had  given  up  shooting  alto- 
gether a  year  or  two  ago.  He  never  really  enjoyed 
it,  because  he  so  loved  the  beauty  of  life  and  hated 
death  in  every  form.  He  has  a  lovely  place  in  the 
North,  and  was  up  there  painting.     He  happened  to 


The  Answer  of  the  Sphinx  137 

pass  within  sight  of  some  fellows  rabbit-shooting,  and 
saw  what  he  considered  cruelty  to  a  wounded  rabbit. 
He  vaulted  over  a  gate  to  expostulate  and  to  save  the 
little  creature  from  further  suffering.  Then  it  happened. 
One  of  the  lads,  apparently  startled,  let  off  his  gun. 
The  charge  struck  a  tree  a  few  yards  off,  and  the  shot 
glanced.  It  did  not  strike  him  full.  The  face  is  only 
slightly  peppered  and  the  brain  quite  uninjured.  But 
shots  pierced  the  retina  of  each  eye,  and  the  sight  is 
hopelessly  gone." 

"Awful  hard  luck, "  said  the  young  man. 

"I  never  can  understand  a  chap  not  bein'  keen  on 
shootin',"  said  the  youth  who  had  not  yet  spoken. 

"Ah,  but  you  would  if  you  had  known  him,"  said 
the  soldier.  "He  was  so  full  of  life  and  vivid  vitality. 
One  could  not  imagine  him  either  dying  or  dealing  death. 
And  his  love  of  the  beautiful  was  almost  a  form  of  religious 
worship.  I  can't  explain  it;  but  he  had  a  way  of  making 
you  see  beauty  in  things  you  had  hardly  noticed  before. 
And  now,  poor  chap,  he  can't  see  them  himself . " 

"Has  he  a  mother?"  asked  the  older  woman. 

"No,  he  has  no  one.  He  is  absolutely  alone.  Scores 
of  friends  of  course;  he  was  a  most  popular  man  about 
town,  and  could  stay  in  almost  any  house  in  the  kingdom 
if  he  chose  to  send  a  post-card  to  say  he  was  coming. 
But  no  relations,  I  believe,  and  never  would  marry.- 
Poor  chap!  He  will  wish  he  had  been  less  fastidious, 
now.  He  might  have  had  the  pick  of  all  the  nicest 
girls,  most  seasons.  But  not  he!  Just  charming  friend- 
ships, and  wedded  to  his  art.  And  now,  as  Lady  Ingleby, 
says,  he  lies  in  the  dark,  helpless  and  alone." 

"Oh,  do  talk  of  something  else!"  cried  the  girl,  push- 
ing back  her  chair  and  rising.  "I  want  to  forget  it. 
It's  too  horribly  sad.     Fancy  what  it  must  be  to  wake 


138  The  Rosary 

up  and  not  know  whether  it  is  day  or  night,  and  to  have 
to  lie  in  the  dark  and  wonder.  Oh,  do  come  out  and 
talk  of  something  cheerful. " 

They  all  rose,  and  the  young  man  slipped  his  hand 
through  the  girl's  arm,  glad  of  the  excuse  her  agitation 
provided. 

"Forget  it,  dear,"  he  said  softly.  "Come  on  out  and 
see  the  old  Sphinx  by  moonlight." 

They  left  the  piazza,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  party ; 
but  the  man  to  whom  the  Morning  Post  belonged 
laid  it  on  the  table  and  stayed  behind,  lighting  a  cigar. 

Jane  rose  from  her  chair  and  came  towards  him. 

"May  I  look  at  your  paper?"  she  said  abruptly. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  with  ready  courtesy.  Then, 
looking  more  closely  at  her:  "Why,  certainly,  Miss 
Champion.  And  how  do  you  do?  I  did  not  know  you 
were  in  these  parts." 

"Ah,  General  Loraine!  Your  face  seemed  familiar, 
but  I  had  not  recognised  you,  either.  Thanks,  I  will 
borrow  this  if  I  may.  And  don't  let  me  keep  you  from 
your  friends.    We  shall  meet  again  by  and  by." 

Jane  waited  until  the  whole  party  had  passed  out 
of  sight  and  until  the  sound  of  their  voices  and  laugh- 
ter had  died  away  in  the  distance.  Then  she  returned 
to  her  chair,  the  place  where  Garth  had  seemed  so 
near.  She  looked  once  more  at  the  Sphinx  and  at 
the  huge  pyramid  in  the  moonlight. 

Then  she  took  up  the  paper  and  opened  it. 

"Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight. " 

Yes — it  was  Garth  Dalmain — her  Garth,  of  the  ador- 
ing shining  eyes — who  lay  at  his  house  in  the  North; 
blind,  helpless,  and  alone. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
in  deryck's  safe  control 

THE  white  cliffs  of  Dover  gradually  became  more 
solid  and  distinct,  until  at  length  they  rose  from 
the  sea,  a  strong  white  wall,  emblem  of  the  undeniable 
Durity  of  England,  the  stainless  honour  and  integrity 
of  her  throne,  her  church,  her  parliament,  her  courts 
of  justice,  and  her  dealings  at  home  and  abroad,  whether 
with  friend  or  foe.  "Strength  and  whiteness,"  thought 
Jane  as  she  paced  the  steamer's  deck;  and  after  a  two 
years'  absence  her  heart  went  out  to  her  native  land. 
Then  Dover  Castle  caught  her  eye,  so  beautiful  in  the 
pearly  light  of  that  spring  afternoon.  Her  mind  leaped 
to  enjoyment,  then  fell  back  stunned  by  the  blow  of 
quick  remembrance,  and  Jane  shut  her  eyes. 

All  beautiful  sights  brought  this  pang  to  her  heart 
since  the  reading  of  that  paragraph  on  the  piazza  of 
the  Mena  House  Hotel. 

An  hour  after  she  had  read  it,  she  was  driving  down 
the  long  straight  road  to  Cairo;  embarked  at  Alexandria 
the  next  day;  landed  at  Brindisi,  and  this  night  and  day 
travelling  had  brought  her  at  last  within  sight  of  the 
shores  of  England.  In  a  few  minutes  she  would  set 
foot  upon  them,  and  then  there  would  be  but  two  more 
stages  to  her  journey.  For,  from  the  moment  she 
started,  Jane  never  doubted  her  ultimate  destination, — 
the  room  where  pain  and  darkness  and  despair  must  be 
waging  so  terrible  a  conflict  against  the  moral  courage, 
the  mental  sanity,  and  the  instinctive  hold  on  life  of  the 
man  she  loved. 

139 


140  The  Rosary 

That  she  was  going  to  him,  Jane  knew;  but  she  felt 
utterly  unable  to  arrange  how  or  in  what  way  her  going 
could  be  managed.  That  it  was  a  complicated  problem, 
her  common  sense  told  her;  though  her  yearning  arms 
and  aching  bosom  cried  out:  "O  God,  is  it  not  simple? 
Blind  and  alone!    My  Garth!" 

But  she  knew  an  unbiassed  judgment,  steadier  than 
her  own,  must  solve  the  problem;  and  that  her  surest 
way  to  Garth  lay  through  the  doctor's  consulting- 
room.  So  she  telegraphed  to  Deryck  from  Paris,  and 
at  present  her  mind  saw  no  further  than  Wimpole 
Street. 

At  Dover  she  bought  a  paper,  and  hastily  scanned 
its  pages  as  she  walked  along  the  platform  in  the  wake 
of  the  capable  porter  who  had  taken  possession  of 
her  rugs  and  hand  baggage.  In  the  personal  column 
she  found  the  very  paragraph  she  sought. 

"We  regret  to  announce  that  Mr.  Garth  Dalmain  still  lies  in 
a  most  precarious  condition  at  his  house  on  Deeside,  Aberdeen- 
shire, as  a  result  of  the  shooting  accident  a  fortnight  ago.  His 
sight  is  hopelessly  gone,  but  the  injured  parts  were  progressing 
favourably,  and  all  fear  of  brain  complications  seemed  over.  Dur- 
ing the  last  few  days,  however,  a  serious  reaction  from  shock  has 
set  in,  and  it  has  been  considered  necessary  to  summon  Sir  Deryck 
Brand,  the  well-known  nerve  specialist,  in  consultation  with  the 
oculist  and  the  local  practitioner  in  charge  of  the  case.  There  is  a 
feeling  of  wide-spread  regret  and  sympathy  in  those  social  and 
artistic  circles  where  Mr.  Dalmain  was  so  well-known  and  so 
deservedly  popular." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  m'lady, "  said  the  efficient  porter 
when  he  had  ascertained,  by  a  rapid  glance  into  his 
palm,  that  Jane's  half-crown  was  not  a  penny.  He  had 
a  sick  young  wife  at  home,  who  had  been  ordered  extra 
nourishment,  and  just  as  the  rush  on  board  began,  he 


In  Deryck's  Safe  Control  141 

had  put  up  a  simple  prayer  to  the  Heavenly  Father 
"who  knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  these  things," 
asking  that  he  might  catch  the  eye  of  a  generous  traveller. 
He  felt  he  had  indeed  been  "led"  to  this  plain,  brown- 
faced,  broad-shouldered  lady,  when  he  remembered  how 
nearly,  after  her  curt  nod  from  a  distance  had  engaged 
him,  he  had  responded  to  the  blandishments  of  a  fussy 
little  woman,  with  many  more  bags  and  rugs,  and  a 
parrot  cage,  who  was  now  doling  French  coppers  out  of 
the  window  of  the  next  compartment.  "Seven  pence 
'apenny  of  this  stuff  ain't  much  for  carrying  all  that 
along,  I  don't  think!"  grumbled  his  mate;  and  Jane's 
young  porter  experienced  the  double  joy  of  faith 
confirmed,  and  willing  service  generously  rewarded. 

A    telegraph    boy   walked    along   the   train,    saying: 
"Honrubble  Jain  Champyun"  at  intervals.    Jane  heard 
her  name,  and  her  arm  shot  out  of  the  window. 
"Here,  my  boy!    It  is  for  me. " 
She  tore  it  open.    It  was  from  the  doctor. 


<d 


'Welcome  home.  Just  back  from  Scotland.  Will  meet  you 
Charing  Cross,  and  give  you  all  the  time  you  want.  Have  coffee 
at  Dover.  Deryck.  " 

Jane  gave  one  hard,  tearless  sob  of  thankfulness  and 
relief.    She  had  been  so  lonely. 

Then  she  turned  to  the  window.  "Here,  somebody! 
Fetch  me  a  cup  of  coffee,  will  you?" 

Coffee  was  the  last  thing  she  wanted ;  but  it  never  oc- 
curred to  any  one  to  disobey  the  doctor,  even  at  a  distance. 

The  young  porter,  who  still  stood  sentry  at  the  door 
of  Jane's  compartment,  dashed  off  to  the  refreshment 
room;  and,  just  as  the  train  began  to  move,  handed 
a  cup  of  steaming  coffee  and  a  plate  of  bread-and- 
butter  in  at  the  window. 


142  The  Rosary 

"Oh,  thank  you,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Jane,  putting 
the  plate  on  the  seat,  while  she  dived  into  her  pocket. 
"Here!  you  have  done  very  well  for  me.  No,  never 
mind  the  change.  Coffee  at  a  moment's  notice  should 
fetch  a  fancy  price.    Good-bye." 

The  train  moved  on,  and  the  porter  stood  looking 
after  it  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Over  the  first  half-crown 
he  had  said  to  himself:  "Milk  and  new-laid  eggs." 
Now,  as  he  pocketed  the  second,  he  added  the  other  two 
things  mentioned  by  the  parish  doctor :  "  Soup  and  jelly ' ' ; 
and  his  heart  glowed.  "Your  heavenly  Father  knoweth 
that  ye  have  need  of  these  things." 

And  Jane,  seated  in  a  comfortable  corner,  choked 
back  the  tears  of  relief  which  threatened  to  fall,  drank 
her  coffee,  and  was  thereby  more  revived  than  she 
could  have  thought  possible.  She,  also,  had  need  of 
many  things.  Not  of  half-crowns;  of  those  she  had 
plenty.  But  above  all  else  she  needed  just  now  a  wise, 
strong,  helpful  friend,  and  Deryck  had  not  failed  her. 

She  read  his  telegram  through  once  more,  and  smiled. 
How  like  him  to  think  of  the  coffee;  and  oh,  how  like 
him  to  be  coming  to  the  station. 

She  took  off  her  hat  and  leaned  back  against  the 
cushions.  She  had  been  travelling  night  and  day,  in 
one  feverish  whirl  of  haste,  and  at  last  she  had  brought 
herself  within  reach  of  Deryck's  hand  and  Deryck's 
safe  control.  The  turmoil  of  her  soul  was  stilled;  a 
great  calm  took  its  place,  and  Jane  dropped  quietly 
off  to  sleep.  "Your  heavenly  Father  knoweth  that 
ye  have  need  of  these  things. " 

Washed  and  brushed  and  greatly  refreshed,  Jane 
stood  at  the  window  of  her  compartment  as  the  train 
steamed  into  Charing  Cross. 


In  Deryck's  Safe  Control  143 

The  doctor  was  stationed  exactly  opposite  the  door 
when  her  carriage  came  to  a  standstill;  mere  chance, 
and  yet,  to  Jane,  it  seemed  so  like  him  to  have  taken 
up  his  position  precisely  at  the  right  spot  on  that  long 
platform.  An  enthusiastic  lady  patient  had  once  said 
of  Deryck  Brand,  with  more  accuracy  of  definition  than 
of  grammar:  "You  know,  he  is  always  so  very  just 
there. "  And  this  characteristic  of  the  doctor  had  made 
him  to  many  a  very  present  help  in  time  of  trouble. 

He  was  through  the  line  of  porters  and  had  his  hand 
upon  the  handle  of  Jane's  door  in  a  moment.  Standing 
at  the  window,  she  took  one  look  at  the  firm  lean  face, 
now  alight  with  welcome,  and  read  in  the  kind,  stead- 
fast eyes  of  her  childhood's  friend  a  perfect  sympathy 
and  comprehension.  Then  she  saw  behind  him  her 
aunt's  footman,  and  her  own  maid,  who  had  been  given 
a  place  in  the  duchess's  household.  In  another  moment 
she  was  on  the  platform  and  her  hand  was  in  Deryck's. 

"That  is  right,  dear,"  he  said.  "All  fit  and  well, 
I  can  see.  Now  hand  over  your  keys.  I  suppose  you 
have  nothing  contraband?  I  telephoned  the  duchess  to 
send  some  of  her  people  to  meet  your  luggage,  and  not 
to  expect  you  herself  until  dinner  time,  as  you  were 
taking  tea  with  us.  Was  that  right?  This  way.  Come 
outside  the  barrier.  What  a  rabble!  All  wanting  to 
break  every  possible  rule  and  regulation,  and  each  trying 
to  be  the  first  person  in  the  front  row.  Really  the 
patience  and  good  temper  of  railway  officials  should 
teach  the  rest  of  mankind   a  lesson." 

The  doctor,  talking  all  the  time,  piloted  Jane  through 
the  crowd ;  opened  the  door  of  a  neat  electric  brougham, 
helped  her  in,  took  his  seat  beside  her,  and  they  glided 
swiftly  out  into  the  Strand,  and  turned  towards  Trafalgar 
Square. 


144  The  Rosary 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "Niagara  is  a  big  thing 
isn't  it?  When  people  say  to  me,  'Were  you  not  dis- 
appointed in  Niagara?  We  were!'  I  feel  tempted  to 
wish,  for  one  homicidal  moment,  that  the  earth  would 
open  her  mouth  and  swallow  them  up.  People  who  can 
be  disappointed  in  Niagara,  and  talk  about  it,  should 
no  longer  be  allowed  to  crawl  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
And  how  about  the  'Little  Mother'?  Isn't  she  worth 
knowing?  I  hope  she  sent  me  her  love.  And  New  York 
harbour !  Did  you  ever  see  anything  to  equal  it,  as  you 
steam  away  in  the  sunset?" 

Jane  gave  a  sudden  sob;  then  turned  to  him,  dry» 
eyed. 

"Is  there  no  hope,  Deryck?" 

The  doctor  laid  his  hand  on  hers.  "He  will  always 
be  blind,  dear.  But  life  holds  other  things  beside  sight. 
We  must  never  say:  ' No  hope. '  " 

"Will  he  live?" 

"There  is  no  reason  he  should  not  live.  But  how 
far  life  will  be  worth  living,  largely  depends  upon  what 
can  be  done  for  him,  poor  chap,  during  the  next  few 
months.  He  is  more  shattered  mentally  than  physically." 

Jane  pulled  off  her  gloves,  swallowed  suddenly,  then 
gripped  the  doctor's  knee.    "  Deryck — I  love  him. " 

The  doctor  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  as 
if  pondering  this  tremendous  fact.  Then  he  lifted  the 
fine,  capable  hand  resting  upon  his  knee  and  kissed 
it  with  a  beautiful  reverence, — a  gesture  expressing  the 
homage  of  the  man  to  the  brave  truthfulness  of  the 
woman. 

"In  that  case,  dear,"  he  said,  "the  future  holds  in 
store  so  great  a  good  for  Garth  Dalmain  that  I  think 
he  may  dispense  with  sight. — Meanwhile  you  have 
much  to  say  to  me,  and  it  is,  of  course,  your  right  tc 


In  Deryck's  Safe  Control  145 

hear  every  detail  of  his  case  that  I  can  give.  And  here 
we  are  at  Wimpole  Street.  Now  come  into  my  con- 
sulting-room. Stoddart  has  orders  that  we  are  on  no 
account  to  be  disturbed. " 


10 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   CONSULTATION 

THE  doctor's  room  was  very  quiet.  Jane  leaned 
back  in  his  dark  green  leather  arm-chair,  her  feet 
on  a  footstool,  her  hands  gripping  the  arms  on  either 
side. 

The  doctor  sat  at  his  table,  in  the  round  pivot-chair 
he  always  used, — a  chair  which  enabled  him  to  swing 
round  suddenly  and  face  a  patient,  or  to  turn  away 
very  quietly  and  bend  over  his  table. 

Just  now  he  was  not  looking  at  Jane.  He  had  been 
giving  her  a  detailed  account  of  his  visit  to  Castle 
Gleneesh,  which  he  had  left  only  on  the  previous  even- 
ing. He  had  spent  five  hours  with  Garth.  It  seemed 
kindest  to  tell  her  all;  but  he  was  looking  straight 
before  him  as  he  talked,  because  he  knew  that  at  last 
the  tears  were  running  unchecked  down  Jane's  cheeks, 
and  he  wished  her  to  think  he  did  not  notice  them. 

"You  understand,  dear,"  he  was  saying,  "the  actual 
wounds  are  going  on  well.  Strangely  enough,  though 
the  retina  of  each  eye  was  pierced,  and  the  sight  is 
irrecoverably  gone,  there  was  very  little  damage  done 
to  surrounding  parts,  and  the  brain  is  quite  uninjured. 
The  present  danger  arises  from  the  shock  to  the  ner- 
vous system  and  from  the  extreme  mental  anguish 
caused  by  the  realisation  of  his  loss.  The  physical 
suffering  during  the  first  days  and  nights  must  have 
been  terrible.  Poor  fellow,  he  looks  shattered  by  it. 
But  his  constitution  is  excellent,  and  his  life  has  been 
so  clean,  healthy,  and  normal,  that  he  had  every  chance 

146 


The  Consultation  147 

of  making  a  good  recovery,  were  it  not  that  as  the 
pain  abated  and  his  blindness  became  more  a  thing  to  be 
daily  and  hourly  realised,  his  mental  torture  was  so 
excessive.  Sight  has  meant  so  infinitely  much  to  him, — 
beauty  of  form,  beauty  of  colour.  The  artist  in  him  was 
so  all-pervading.  They  tell  me  he  said  very  little.  He 
is  a  brave  man  and  a  strong  one.  But  his  temperature 
began  to  vary  alarmingly;  he  showed  symptoms  of 
mental  trouble,  of  which  I  need  not  give  you  technical 
details;  and  a  nerve  specialist  seemed  more  necessary 
than  an  oculist.    Therefore  he  is  now  in  my  hands. " 

The  doctor  paused,  straightened  a  few  books  lying 
on  the  table,  and  drew  a  small  bowl  of  violets  closer  to 
him.  He  studied  these  attentively  for  a  few  moments, 
then  put  them  back  where  his  wife  had  placed  them 
and  went  on  speaking. 

"I  am  satisfied  on  the  whole.  He  needed  a  friendly 
voice  to  penetrate  the  darkness.  He  needed  a  hand 
to  grasp  his,  in  faithful  comprehension.  He  did  not 
want  pity,  and  those  who  talked  of  his  loss  without 
understanding  it,  or  being  able  to  measure  its  immen- 
sity, maddened  him.  He  needed  a  fellow-man  to  come 
to  him  and  say:  'It  is  a  fight — an  awful,  desperate 
fight.  But  by  God's  grace  you  will  win  through  to 
victory.  It  would  be  far  easier  to  die;  but  to  die  would 
be  to  lose;  you  must  live  to  win.  It  is  utterly  beyond 
all  human  strength;  but  by  God's  grace  you  will  come 
through  conqueror.'  All  this  I  said  to  him,  Jeanette, 
and  a  good  deal  more;  and  then  a  strangely  beautiful 
thing  happened.  I  can  tell  you,  and  of  course  I  could 
tell  Flower,  but  to  no  one  else  on  earth  would  I  repeat  it. 
The  difficulty  had  been  to  obtain  from  him  any  response 
whatever.  He  did  not  seem  able  to  rouse  sufficiently  to 
notice  anything  going  on  around  him.    But  those  words, 


148  The  Rosary 

'by  God's  grace,'  appeared  to  take  hold  of  him  and 
find  immediate  echo  in  his  inner  consciousness.  I  heard 
him  repeat  them  once  or  twice,  and  then  change  them  to 
'with  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace.'  Then  he  turned 
his  head  slowly  on  the  pillow,  and  what  one  could  see 
of  his  face  seemed  transformed.  He  said:  'Now  I 
remember  it,  and  the  music  is  this';  and  his  hands 
moved  on  the  bedclothes,  as  if  forming  chords.  Then, 
in  a  very  low  voice,  but  quite  clearly,  he  repeated  the 
second  verse  of  the  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus.  I  knew 
it,  because  I  used  to  sing  it  as  a  chorister  in  my  father's 
church  at  home.    You  remember? 

"  '  Enable  with  perpetual  light 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight. 
Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  face 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace. 
Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home; 
Where  Thou  art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come.' 

It  was  the  most  touching  thing  I  ever  heard." 

The  doctor  paused,  for  Jane  had  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  was  sobbing  convulsively.  When  her 
sobs  grew  less  violent,  the  doctor's  quiet  voice  con- 
tinued: "You  see,  this  gave  me  something  to  go  upon. 
When  a  crash  such  as  this  happens,  all  a  man  has  left 
to  hold  on  to  is  his  religion.  According  as  his  spiritual 
side  has  been  developed,  will  his  physical  side  stand 
the  strain.  Dalmain  has  more  of  the  real  thing  than 
any  one  would  think  who  only  knew  him  superficially. 
Well,  after  that  we  talked  quite  definitely,  and  I  per- 
suaded him  to  agree  to  one  or  two  important  arrange- 
ments. You  know,  he  has  no  relations  of  his  own,  to 
speak  of;  just  a  few  cousins,  who  have  never  been  very 
friendly.  He  is  quite  alone  up  there;  for,  though  he  has 
hosts  of  friends,  this  is  a  time  when  friends  would  have 


The  Consultation  149 

to  be  very  intimate  to  be  admitted;  and  though  he 
seemed  so  boyish  and  easy  to  know,  I  begin  to  doubt 
whether  any  of  us  knew  the  real  Garth — the  soul  of  the 
man,  deep  down  beneath  the  surface." 

Jane  lifted  her  head.    "I  did, "  she  said  simply. 

"Ah,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  see.  Well,  as  I  said, 
ordinary  friends  could  not  be  admitted.  Lady  Ingleby 
went,  in  her  sweet  impulsive  way,  without  letting 
them  know  she  was  coming;  travelled  all  the  way  up 
from  Shenstone  with  no  maid,  and  nothing  but  a  hand- 
bag, and  arrived  at  the  door  in  a  fly.  Robert  Mackenzie, 
the  local  medical  man,  who  is  an  inveterate  misogynist, 
feared  at  first  she  was  an  unsuspected  wife  of  Dai's. 
He  seemed  to  think  unannounced  ladies  arriving  in 
hired  vehicles  must  necessarily  turn  out  to  be  undesirable 
wives.  I  gather  they  had  a  somewhat  funny  scene. 
But  Lady  Ingleby  soon  got  round  old  Robbie,  and  came 
near  to  charming  him — as  whom  does  she  not?  But  of 
course  they  did  not  dare  let  her  into  Dai's  room;  so  her 
ministry  of  consolation  appears  to  have  consisted  in 
letting  Dai's  old  housekeeper  weep  on  her  beautiful 
shoulder.  It  was  somewhat  of  a  comedy,  hearing  about 
it,  when  one  happened  to  know  them  all,  better  than  they 
knew  each  other.  But  to  return  to  practical  details.  He 
has  had  a  fully  trained  male  nurse  and  his  own  valet 
to  wait  on  him.  He  absolutely  refused  one  of  our 
London  hospital  nurses,  who  might  have  brought  a 
little  gentle  comfort  and  womanly  sympathy  to  his 
sick-room.  He  said  he  could  not  stand  being  touched 
by  a  woman;  so  there  it  remained.  A  competent  man 
was  found  instead.  But  we  can  now  dispense  with 
him,  and  I  have  insisted  upon  sending  up  a  lady  nurse 
of  my  own  choosing;  not  so  much  to  wait  on  him,  or 
do  any  of  a  sick-nurse's  ordinary  duties — his  own  man 


150  The  Rosary 

can  do  these,  and  he  seems  a  capable  fellow — but  to  sit 
with  him,  read  to  him,  attend  to  his  correspondence, — ■ 
there  are  piles  of  unopened  letters  he  ought  to  hear, — 
in  fact  help  him  to  take  up  life  again  in  his  blindness. 
It  will  need  training;  it  will  require  tact;  and  this 
afternoon  I  engaged  exactly  the  right  person.  She  is  a 
gentlewoman  by  birth,  has  nursed  for  me  before,  and  is 
well  up  in  the  special  knowledge  of  mental  things  which 
this  case  requires.  Also  she  is  a  pretty,  dainty  little 
thing;  just  the  kind  of  elegant  young  woman  poor  Dal 
would  have  liked  to  have  about  him  when  he  could  see. 
He  was  >uch  a  fastidious  chap  about  appearances,  and 
such  a  connoisseur  of  good  looks.  I  have  written  a 
descriptive  ace  -unt  of  her  to  Dr.  Mackenzie,  and  he  will 
prepare  his  p-.  ent  for  her  arrival.  She  is  to  go  up  the 
day  after  to-morrow.  We  are  lucky  to  get  her,  for  she  is 
quite  first-rate,  and  she  has  only  just  finished  with  a  long 
consumptive  case,  now  on  the  mend  and  ordered  abroad. 
So  you  see,  Jeanette,  all  is  shaping  well. — And  now,  my 
dear  girl,  you  have  a  story  of  your  own  to  tell  me,  and  my 
whole  attention  shall  be  at  your  disposal.  But  first 
of  all  I  am  going  to  ring  for  tea,  and  you  and  I  will 
have  it  quietly  down  here,  if  you  will  excuse  me  for  a 
few  minutes  while  I  go  upstairs  and  speak  to  Flower." 

It  seemed  so  natural  to  Jane  to  be  pouring  out  the 
doctor's  tea,  and  to  watch  him  putting  a  liberal  allow- 
ance of  salt  on  the  thin  bread-and-butter,  and  then 
folding  it  over  with  the  careful  accuracy  which  had 
always  characterised  his  smallest  action.  In  the  es- 
sentials he  had  changed  so  little  since  the  days  when 
as  a  youth  of  twenty  spending  his  vacations  at  the 
rectory  he  used  to  give  the  lonely  girl  at  the  manor 
so  much  pleasure  by  coming  up  to  her  school-room 


The  Consultation  151 

tea;  and  when  it  proved  possible  to  dispose  of  her 
governess's  chaperonage  and  be  by  themselves,  what 
delightful  times  they  used  to  have,  sitting  on  the  hearth- 
rug, roasting  chestnuts  and  discussing  the  many  sub- 
jects which  were  of  mutual  interest.  Jane  could  still 
remember  the  painful  pleasure  of  turning  hot  chestnuts 
on  the  bars  with  her  fingers,  and  how  she  hastened  to  do 
them  herself,  lest  he  should  be  burned.  She  had  always 
secretly  liked  and  admired  his  hands,  with  the  brown 
thin  fingers,  so  delicate  in  their  touch  and  yet  full  of 
such  gentle  strength.  She  used  to  love  watching  them 
while  he  sharpened  her  pencils  or  drew  wonderful  dia- 
grams in  her  exercise  books;  thinking  how  in  years  to 
come,  when  he  performed  important  operations,  human 
lives  would  depend  upon  their  skill  and  dexterity.  In 
those  early  years  he  had  seemed  so  much  older  than  she. 
And  then  came  the  time  when  she  shot  up  rapidly  into 
young  womanhood  and  their  eyes  were  on  a  level  and 
their  ages  seemed  the  same.  Then,  as  the  years  went 
on,  Jane  began  to  feel  older  than  he,  and  took  to  calling 
him  "Boy"  to  emphasise  this  fact.  And  then  came — 
Flower; — and  complications.  And  Jane  had  to  see  his 
face  grow  thin  and  worn,  and  his  hair  whiten  on  the 
temples.  And  she  yearned  over  him,  yet  dared  not  offer 
sympathy.  At  last  things  came  right  for  the  doctor, 
and  all  the  highest  good  seemed  his;  in  his  profession; 
in  his  standing  among  men;  and,  above  all,  in  his  heart 
life,  which  Flower  had  always  held  between  her  two 
sweet  hands.  And  Jane  rejoiced,  but  felt  still  more 
lonely  now  she  had  no  companion  in  loneliness.  And 
still  their  friendship  held,  with  Flower  admitted  as  a 
third — a  wistful,  grateful  third,  anxious  to  learn  from 
the  woman  whose  friendship  meant  so  much  to  her 
husband,  how  to  succeed  where  she  had  hitherto  failed. 


152  The  Rosary 

And  Jane's  faithful  heart  was  generous  and  loyal  to 
both,  though  in  sight  of  their  perfect  happiness  her 
loneliness  grew. 

And  now,  in  her  own  hour  of  need,  it  had  to  be  Deryck 
only;  and  the  doctor  knew  this,  and  had  arranged 
accordingly;  for  at  last  his  chance  had  come,  to  repay 
the  faithful  devotion  of  a  lifetime.  The  conversation 
of  that  afternoon  would  be  the  supreme  test  of  their 
friendship.  And  so,  with  a  specialist's  appreciation  of 
the  mental  effect  of  the  most  trivial  external  details,  the 
doctor  had  ordered  muffins,  and  a  kettle  on  the  fire, 
and  had  asked  Jane  to  make  the  tea. 

By  the  time  the  kettle  boiled,  they  had  remembered 
the  chestnuts,  and  were  laughing  about  poor  old  Frau- 
lein's  efforts  to  keep  them  in  order,  and  the  strategies 
by  which  they  used  to  evade  her  vigilance.  And  the 
years  rolled  back,  and  Jane  felt  herself  very  much  at 
home  with  the  chum  of  her  childhood. 

Nevertheless,  there  was  a  moment  of  tension  when  the 
doctor  drew  back  the  tea-table  and  they  faced  each  other 
in  easy-chairs  on  either  side  of  the  fireplace.  Each 
noticed  how  characteristic  was  the  attitude  of  the  other. 

Jane  sat  forward,  her  feet  firmly  planted  on  the 
hearth-rug,  her  arms  on  her  knees,  and  her  hands  clasped 
in  front  of  her. 

The  doctor  leaned  back,  one  knee  crossed  over  the 
other,  his  elbows  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  the  tips  of 
his  fingers  meeting,  in  absolute  stillness  of  body  and 
intense  concentration  of  mind. 

The  silence  between  them  was  like  a  deep,  calm  pool. 

Jane  took  the  first  plunge. 

"Deryck,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  everything.  I  am 
going  to  speak  of  my  heart,  and  mind,  and  feelings, 
exactly  as  if  they  were  bones,  and  muscles,  and  lungs. 


The  Consultation  153 

I  want  you  to  combine  the  offices  of  doctor  and  confessor 
in  one." 

The  doctor  had  been  contemplating  his  finger-tips. 
He  now  glanced  swiftly  at  Jane,  and  nodded;  then 
turned  his  head  and  looked  into  the  fire. 

"Deryck,  mine  has  been  a  somewhat  lonely  exist- 
ence. I  have  never  been  essential  to  the  life  of  another, 
and  no  one  has  ever  touched  the  real  depths  of  mine. 
I  have  known  they  were  there,  but  I  have  known  they 
were  unsounded. " 

The  doctor  opened  his  lips,  as  if  to  speak;  then  closed 
them  in  a  firmer  line  than  before,  and  merely  nodded 
his  head  silently. 

"I  had  never  been  loved  with  that  love  which  makes 
one  absolutely  first  to  a  person,  nor  had  I  ever  so  loved. 
I  had — cared  very  much;  but  caring  is  not  loving. — Oh, 
Boy,  I  know  that  now!" 

The  doctor's  profile  showed  rather  white  against  the 
dark-green  background  of  his  chair;  but  he  smiled  as 
he  answered:  "Quite  true,  dear.  There  is  a  distinction, 
and  a  difference. " 

"I  had  heaps  of  friends,  and  amongst  them  a  good 
many  nice  men,  mostly  rather  younger  than  myself, 
who  called  me  '  Miss  Champion '  to  my  face,  and  '  good 
old  Jane'  behind  my  back. " 

The  doctor  smiled.  He  had  often  heard  the  expres- 
sion, and  could  recall  the  whole-hearted  affection  and 
admiration  in  the  tones  of  those  who  used  it. 

"Men,  as  a  rule,"  continued  Jane,  "get  on  better 
with  me  than  do  women.  Being  large  and  solid,  and 
usually  calling  a  spade  '  a  spade, '  and  not  '  a  garden 
implement,'  women  consider  me  strong-minded,  and 
are  inclined  to  be  afraid  of  me.  The  boys  know  they 
can  trust  me;  they  make  a  confidante  of  me,  looking  upon 


154  The  Rosary 

me  as  a  sort  of  convenient  elder  sister  who  knows  less 
about  them  than  an  elder  sister  would  know,  and  is 
probably  more  ready  to  be  interested  in  those  things 
which  they  choose  to  tell.  Among  my  men  friends, 
Deryck,  was  Garth  Dalmain." 

Jane  paused,  and  the  doctor  waited  silently  for  her 
to  continue. 

"I  was  always  interested  in  him,  partly  because  he 
was  so  original  and  vivid  in  his  way  of  talking,  and 
partly  because" — a  bright  flush  suddenly  crept  up  into 
the  tanned  cheeks— "well,  though  I  did  not  realise  it 
then,  I  suppose  I  found  his  extraordinary  beauty  rather 
fascinating.  And  then,  our  circumstances  were  so  much 
alike, — both  orphans,  and  well  off;  responsible  to  no  one 
for  our  actions;  with  heaps  of  mutual  friends,  and  con- 
stantly staying  at  the  same  houses.  We  drifted  into  a 
pleasant  intimacy,  and  of  all  my  friends,  he  was  the  one 
who  made  me  feel  most  like  '  a  man  and  a  brother. '  We 
discussed  women  by  the  dozen,  all  his  special  admirations 
in  turn,  and  the  effect  of  their  beauty  upon  him,  and  I 
watched  with  interest  to  see  who,  at  last,  would  fix 
his  roving  fancy.  But  on  one  eventful  day  all  this 
was  changed  in  half  an  hour.  We  were  both  staying 
at  Overdene.  There  was  a  big  house  party,  and  Aunt 
Georgina  had  arranged  a  concert  to  which  half  the 
neighbourhood  was  coming.  Madame  Velma  failed  at 
the  last  minute.  Aunt  'Gina,  in  a  great  state  of  mind, 
was  borrowing  remarks  from  her  macaw.  You  know 
how?  She  always  says  she  is  merely  quoting  'the  dear 
bird.'  Something  had  to  be  done.  I  offered  to  take 
Velma's  place;  and  I  sang." 

"  Ah, "  said  the  doctor. 

"I  sang  The  Rosary — the  song  Flower  asked  for  the 
last  time  I  was  here.    Do  you  remember?" 


The  Consultation  155 

The  doctor  nodded.    "I  remember. " 

"After  that,  all  was  changed  between  Garth  and  me. 
I  did  not  understand  it  at  first.  I  knew  the  music 
had  moved  him  deeply,  beauty  of  sound  having  upon 
him  much  the  same  effect  as  beauty  of  colour;  but  I 
thought  the  effect  would  pass  in  the  night.  But  the 
days  went  on,  and  there  was  always  this  strange  sweet 
difference;  not  anything  others  would  notice;  but  I 
suddenly  became  conscious  that,  for  the  first  time  in 
my  whole  life,  I  was  essential  to  somebody.  I  could 
not  enter  a  room  without  realising  that  he  was  in- 
stantly aware  of  my  presence;  I  could  not  leave  a  room 
without  knowing  that  he  would  at  once  feel  and  regret 
my  absence.  The  one  fact  filled  and  completed  all 
things;  the  other  left  a  blank  which  could  not  be  re- 
moved. I  knew  this,  and  yet— incredible  though  it  may 
appear — I  did  not  realise  it  meant  love.  I  thought  it  was 
an  extraordinarily  close  bond  of  sympathy  and  mutual 
understanding,  brought  about  principally  by  our  enjoy- 
ment of  one  another's  music.  We  spent  hours  in  the 
music-room.  I  put  it  down  to  that;  yet  when  he  looked 
at  me  his  eyes  seemed  to  touch  as  well  as  see  me,  and  it 
was  a  very  tender  and  wonderful  touch.  And  all  the 
while  I  never  thought  of  love.  I  was  so  plain  and  almost 
middle-aged;  and  he,  such  a  beautiful,  radiant  youth. 
He  was  like  a  young  sun-god,  and  I  felt  warmed  and 
vivified  when  he  was  near;  and  he  was  almost  always 
near.  Honestly,  that  was  my  side  of  the  days  succeeding 
the  concert.  But  his!  He  told  me  afterwards,  Deryck, 
it  had  been  a  sudden  revelation  to  him  when  he  heard 
me  sing  The  Rosary,  not  of  music  only,  but  of  me. 
He  said  he  had  never  thought  of  me  otherwise  than  as 
a  good  sort  of  chum;  but  then  it  was  as  if  a  veil  were 
lifted,  and  he  saw,  and  knew,  and  felt  me  as  a  woman. 


156  The  Rosary 

And — no  doubt  it  will  seem  odd  to  you,  Boy;  it  did 
to  me; — but  he  said,  that  the  woman  he  found  then 
was  his  ideal  of  womanhood,  and  that  from  that  hour 
he  wanted  me  for  his  own  as  he  had  never  wanted 
anything  before." 

Jane  paused,  and  looked  into  the  glowing  heart  of  the  fire. 

The  doctor  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  Jane.  He 
himself  had  experienced  the  intense  attraction  of  her 
womanliness, — all  the  more  overpowering  when  it  was 
realised,  because  it  did  not  appear  upon  the  surface. 
He  had  sensed  the  strong  mother-tenderness  lying  dor- 
mant within  her;  had  known  that  her  arms  would  prove 
a  haven  of  refuge,  her  bosom  a  soothing  pillow,  her  love 
a  consolation  unspeakable.  In  his  own  days  of  loneliness 
and  disappointment,  the  doctor  had  had  to  flee  from  this 
in  Jane, — a  precious  gift,  so  easy  to  have  taken  because 
of  her  very  ignorance  of  it ;  but  a  gift  to  which  he  had  no 
right.  Thus  the  doctor  could  well  understand  the  hold 
it  would  gain  upon  a  man  who  had  discovered  it,  and 
who  was  free  to  win  it  for  his  own. 

But  he  only  said,  "  I  do  not  think  it  odd,  dear. " 

Jane  had  forgotten  the  doctor.  She  came  back 
promptly  from  the  glowing  heart  of  the  fire. 

"I  am  glad  you  don't,"  she  said.  "I  did.— Well, 
we  both  left  Overdene  on  the  same  day.  I  came  to 
you;  he  went  to  Shenstone.  It  was  a  Tuesday.  On 
the  Friday  I  went  down  to  Shenstone,  and  we  met 
again.  Having  been  apart  for  a  little  while  seemed 
to  make  this  curious  feeling  of  'togetherness'  deeper 
and  sweeter  than  ever.  In  the  Shenstone  house  party 
was  that  lovely  American  girl,  Pauline  Lister.  Garth 
was  enthusiastic  about  her  beauty,  and  set  on  painting 
her.  Everybody  made  sure  he  was  going  to  propose 
to  her.    Deryck,  I  thought  so,  too;  in  fact  I  had  advised 


The  Consultation  157 

him  to  do  it.  I  felt  so  pleased  and  interested  over  it, 
though  all  the  while  his  eyes  touched  me  when  he 
looked  at  me,  and  I  knew  the  day  did  not  begin  for 
him  until  we  had  met,  and  was  over  when  we  had  said 
good-night.  And  this  experience  of  being  first  and  most 
to  him  made  everything  so  golden,  and  life  so  rich,  and 
still  I  thought  of  it  only  as  an  unusually  delightful 
friendship.  But  the  evening  of  my  arrival  at  Shenstone 
he  asked  me  to  come  out  on  to  the  terrace  after  dinner, 
as  he  wanted  specially  to  talk  to  me.  Deryck,  I  thought 
it  was  the  usual  proceeding  of  making  a  confidante  of  me, 
and  that  I  was  to  hear  details  of  his  intentions  regarding 
Miss  Lister.  Thinking  that,  I  walked  calmly  out  beside 
him;  sat  down  on  the  parapet,  in  the  brilliant  moonlight, 
and  quietly  waited  for  him  to  begin.  Then — oh,  Deryck! 
It  happened." 

Jane  put  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  clasped  hands. 

"I  cannot  tell  you — details.  His  love — it  just  poured 
over  me  like  molten  gold.  It  melted  the  shell  of  my 
reserve;  it  burst  through  the  ice  of  my  convictions;  it 
swept  me  off  my  feet  upon  a  torrent  of  wondrous  fire. 
I  knew  nothing  in  heaven  or  earth  but  that  this  love  was 
mine,  and  was  for  me.  And  then — oh,  Deryck!  I  can't 
explain — I  don't  know  myself  how  it  happened — but  this 
whirlwind  of  emotion  came  to  rest  upon  my  heart.  He 
knelt  with  his  arms  around  me,  and  we  held  each  other 
in  a  sudden  great  stillness ;  and  in  that  moment  I  was  all 
his,  and  he  knew  it.  He  might  have  stayed  there  hours 
if  he  had  not  moved  or  spoken;  but  presently  he  lifted 
up  his  face  and  looked  at  me.  Then  he  said  two  words. 
I  can't  repeat  them,  Boy;  but  they  brought  me  suddenly 
to  my  senses,  and  made  me  realise  what  it  all  meant. 
Garth  Dalmain  wanted  me  to  marry  him. " 


158  The  Rosary 

Jane  paused,  awaiting  the  doctor's  expression  of 
surprise. 

"What  else  could  it  have  meant?"  said  Deryck 
Brand,  very  quietly.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
lips,  knowing  they  trembled  a  little.  Jane's  confes- 
sions were  giving  him  a  stiffer  time  than  he  had 
expected.     "Well,  dear,  so  you ?" 

"I  stood  up,"  said  Jane;  "for  while  he  knelt  there 
he  was  master  of  me,  mind  and  body;  and  some  instinct 
told  me  that  if  I  were  to  be  won  to  wifehood,  my  reason 
must  say  'yes'  before  the  rest  of  me.  It  is  'spirit,  soul, 
and  body '  in  the  Word,  not  '  body,  soul,  and  spirit, '  as 
is  so  often  misquoted;  and  I  believe  the  inspired  sequence 
to  be  the  right  one. " 

The  doctor  made  a  quick  movement  of  interest. 
"Good  heavens,  Jane!",  he  said.  "You  have  got  hold 
of  a  truth  there,  and  you  have  expressed  it  exactly  as  I 
have  often  wanted  to  express  it  without  being  able  to 
find  the  right  words.    You  have  found  them,  Jeanette. " 

She  looked  into  his  eager  eyes  and  smiled  sadly. 
"Have  I,  Boy?"  she  said.  "Well,  they  have  cost  me 
dear. — I  put  my  lover  from  me  and  told  him  I  must 
have  twelve  hours  for  calm  reflection.  He  was  so 
sure — so  sure  of  me,  so  sure  of  himself — that  he  agreed 
without  a  protest.  At  my  request  he  left  me  at  once. 
The  manner  of  his  going  I  cannot  tell,  even  to  you, 
Dicky.  I  promised  to  meet  him  at  the  village  church 
next  day  and  give  him  my  answer.  He  was  to  try  the 
new  organ  at  eleven.  We  knew  we  should  be  alone.  I 
came.  He  sent  away  the  blower.  He  called  me  to  him 
at  the  chancel  step.  The  setting  was  so  perfect.  The 
artist  in  him  sang  for  joy,  and  thrilled  with  expectation. 
The  glory  of  absolute  certainty  was  in  his  eyes;  though 
he  had  himself  well  in  hand.    He  kept  from  touching  me 


The  Consultation  159 

while  he  asked  for  my  answer.  Then — I  refused  him, 
point  blank,  giving  a  reason  he  could  not  question.  He 
turned  from  me  and  left  the  church,  and  I  have  not 
spoken  to  him  from  that  day  to  this. " 

A  long  silence  in  the  doctor's  consulting-room.  One 
manly  heart  was  entering  into  the  pain  of  another,  and  yet 
striving  not  to  be  indignant  until  he  knew  the  whole  truth. 

Jane's  spirit  was  strung  up  to  the  same  pitch  as  in  that 
fateful  hour,  and  once  more  she  thought  herself  right. 

At  last  the  doctor  spoke.  He  looked  at  her  searchingly 
now,  and  held  her  eyes. 

"And  why  did  you  refuse  him,  Jane?"  The  kind 
voice  was  rather  stern. 

Jane  put  out  her  hands  to  him  appealingly.  "Ah, 
Boy,  I  must  make  you  understand!  How  could  I 
do  otherwise,  though,  indeed,  it  was  putting  away 
the  highest  good  life  will  ever  hold  for  me?  Deryck, 
you  know  Garth  well  enough  to  realise  how  dependent 
he  is  on  beauty;  he  must  be  surrounded  by  it,  per- 
petually. Before  this  unaccountable  need  of  each  other 
came  to  us  he  had  talked  to  me  quite  freely  on  this 
point,  saying  of  a  plain  person  whose  character  and 
gifts  he  greatly  admired,  and  whose  face  he  grew  to 
like  in  consequence:  'But  of  course  it  was  not  the  sort 
of  face  one  would  have  wanted  to  live  with,  or  to  have 
day  after  day  opposite  to  one  at  table;  but  then  one  was 
not  called  to  that  sort  of  discipline,  which  would  be 
martyrdom  to  me.'  Oh,  Deryck!  Could  I  have  tied 
Garth  to  my  plain  face?  Could  I  have  let  myself  become 
a  daily,  hourly  discipline  to  that  radiant,  beauty-loving 
nature?  I  know  they  say,  'Love  is  blind.'  But  that  is 
before  Love  has  entered  into  his  kingdom.  Love  de- 
sirous, sees  only  that,  in  the  one  beloved,  which  has 
awakened  the  desire.     But  Love  content,  regains  full 


160  The  Rosary 

vision,  and,  as  time  goes  on,  those  powers  of  vision 
increase  and  become,  by  means  of  daily,  hourly,  use, — ■ 
microscopic  and  telescopic.  Wedded  love  is  not  blind. 
Bah!  An  outsider  staying  with  married  people  is  apt  to 
hear  what  love  sees,  on  both  sides,  and  the  delusion  of 
love's  blindness  is  dispelled  forever.  I  know  Garth  was 
blind,  during  all  those  golden  days,  to  my  utter  lack  of 
beauty,  because  he  wanted  me  so  much.  But  when  he 
had  had  me,  and  had  steeped  himself  in  all  I  have  to  give 
of  soul  and  spirit  beauty;  when  the  daily  routine  of  life 
began,  which  after  all  has  to  be  lived  in  complexions,  and 
with  features  to  the  fore;  when  he  sat  down  to  breakfast 
and  I  saw  him  glance  at  me  and  then  look  away,  when 
I  was  conscious  that  I  was  sitting  behind  the  coffee-pot, 
looking  my  very  plainest,  and  that  in  consequence  my 
boy's  discipline  had  begun;  could  I  have  borne  it? 
Should  I  not,  in  the  miserable  sense  of  failing  him  day  by 
day  through  no  fault  of  my  own,  have  grown  plainer  and 
plainer;  until  bitterness  and  disappointment,  and  per- 
haps jealousy,  all  combined  to  make  me  positively  ugly? 
I  ask  you,  Deryck,  could  I  have  borne  it?" 

The  doctor  was  looking  at  Jane  with  an  expression  of 
keen  professional  interest. 

"How  awfully  well  I  diagnosed  the  case  when  I  sent 
you  abroad, "  he  remarked  meditatively.  "Really,  with 
so  little  data  go  go  upon " 

"Oh,  Boy,"  cried  Jane,  with  a  movement  of  im- 
patience, "don't  speak  to  me  as  if  I  were  a  patient. 
Treat  me  as  a  human  being,  at  least,  and  tell  me — as 
man  to  man — could  I  have  tied  Garth  Dalmain  to  my 
plain  face?    For  you  know  it  is  plain. " 

The  doctor  laughed.  He  was  glad  to  make  Jane  a 
little  angry.  "My  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "were  we  speak- 
ing as  man  to  man,  I  should  have  a  few  very  strong 


The  Consultation  161 

things  to  say  to  you.  As  we  are  speaking  as  man  to 
woman, — and  as  a  man  who  has  for  a  very  long  time 
respected,  honoured,  and  admired  a  very  dear  and  noble 
woman, — I  will  answer  your  question  frankly.  You  are 
not  beautiful,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word, 
and  no  one  who  really  loves  you  would  answer  otherwise ; 
because  no  one  who  knows  and  loves  you  would  dream  of 
telling  you  a  lie.  We  will  even  allow,  if  you  like,  that  you 
are  plain,  although  I  know  half  a  dozen  young  men  who, 
were  they  here,  would  want  to  kick  me  into  the  street  for 
saying  so,  and  I  should  have  to  pretend  in  self-defence 
that  their  ears  had  played  them  false  and  I  had  said, 
'  You  are  Jane, '  which  is  all  they  would  consider  mattered. 
So  long  as  you  are  yourself,  your  friends  will  be  well  con- 
tent. At  the  same  time,  I  may  add,  while  this  dear  face  is 
under  discussion,  that  I  can  look  back  to  times  when  I  have 
felt  that  I  would  gladly  walk  twenty  miles  for  a  sight  of 
it ;  and  in  its  absence  I  have  always  wished  it  present, 
and  in  its  presence  I  have  never  wished  it  away. " 

"Ah,  but,Deryck,  you  did  not  have  to  have  it  always 
opposite  you  at  meals,  "  insisted  Jane  gravely. 

"Unfortunately  not.  But  I  enjoyed  the  meals  more 
on  the  happy  occasions  when  it  was  there. " 

"And,  Deryck — you  did  not  have  to  kiss  it." 

The  doctor  threw  back  his  head  and  shouted  with 
laughter,  so  that  Flower,  passing  up  the  stairs,  wondered 
what  turn  the  conversation  could  be  taking. 

But  Jane  was  quite  serious ;  and  saw  in  it  no  laughing 
matter. 

"No,  dear,"  said  the  doctor  when  he  had  recovered; 
"to  my  infinite  credit  be  it  recorded,  that  in  all  the 
years  I  have  known  it  I  have  never  once  kissed  it. " 

"Dicky,  don't  tease!  Oh,  Boy,  it  is  the  most  vital 
question  of  my  whole  life;  and  if  you  do  not  now  give 
ii 


162  The  Rosary 

me  wise  and  thoughtful  advice,  all  this  difficult  confession 
will  have  been  for  nothing. " 

The  doctor  became  grave  immediately.  He  leaned 
forward  and  took  those  clasped  hands  between  his. 

"Dear,"  he  said,  "forgive  me  if  I  seemed  to  take  it 
lightly.  My  most  earnest  thought  is  wholly  at  your 
disposal.  And  now  let  me  ask  you  a  few  questions. 
How  did  you  ever  succeed  in  convincing  Dalmain 
that  such  a  thing  as  this  was  an  insuperable  obstacle 
to  your  marriage?" 

"  I  did  not  give  it  as  a  reason. " 

"What  then  did  you  give  as  your  reason  for  refusing 
him?" 

"I  asked  him  how  old  he  was. " 

"Jane!  Standing  there  beside  him  in  the  chancel, 
where  he  had  come  awaiting  your  answer?" 

"Yes.  It  did  seem  awful  when  I  came  to  think  it  over 
afterwards.    But  it  worked. " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  worked.    What  then?  " 

"He  said  he  was  twenty-seven.  I  said  I  was  thirty, 
and  looked  thirty-five,  and  felt  forty.  I  also  said  he 
might  be  twenty-seven,  but  he  looked  nineteen,  and 
I  was  sure  he  often  felt  nine. " 

"Well?" 

"Then  I  said  that  I  could  not  marry  a  mere  boy." 

"And  he  acquiesced?" 

"He  seemed  stunned  at  first.  Then  he  said  of  course 
I  could  not  marry  him  if  I  considered  him  that.  He 
said  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  given  a  thought  to 
himself  in  the  matter.  Then  he  said  he  bowed  to  my 
decision,  and  he  walked  down  the  church  and  went 
out,  and  we  have  not  met  since. " 

"Jane,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  wonder  he  did  not  see 
through  it.    You  are  so  unused  to  lying,  that  you  cannot 


The  Consultation  163 

have  lied,  on  the  chancel  step,  to  the  man  you  loved, 
with  much  conviction." 

A  dull  red  crept  up  beneath  Jane's  tan. 

"Oh,  Deryck,  it  was  not  entirely  a  lie.  It  was  one 
of  those  dreadful  lies  which  are  '  part  a  truth, '  of  which 
Tennyson  says  that  they  are  '  a  harder  matter  to  fight. ' 

"  '  A  lie  which  is  all  a  lie 

May  be  met  and  fought  with  outright; 
But  a  lie  which  is  part  a  truth 
Is  a  harder  matter  to  fight, '  " 

quoted  the  doctor. 

"Yes,"  said  Jane.  "And  he  could  not  fight  this, 
just  because  it  was  partly  true.  He  is  younger  than 
I  by  three  years,  and  still  more  by  temperament.  It 
was  partly  for  his  delightful  youthfulness  that  I  feared 
my  maturity  and  staidness.  It  was  part  a  truth,  but  oh, 
Deryck,  it  was  more  a  lie;  and  it  was  altogether  a  lie  to 
call  him — the  man  whom  I  had  felt  complete  master  of 
me  the  evening  before — '  a  mere  boy. '  Also  he  could  not 
fight  it  because  it  took  him  so  utterly  by  surprise.  He 
had  been  all  the  time  as  completely  without  self-con- 
sciousness, as  I  had  been  morbidly  full  of  it.  His 
whole  thought  had  been  of  me.  Mine  had  been  of  him 
and — of  myself." 

"Jane, "  said  the  doctor,  "  of  all  that  you  have  suffered 
since  that  hour,  you  deserved  every  pang." 

Jane  bent  her  head.    "  I  know, "  she  said. 

"You  were  false  to  yourself,  and  not  true  to  your 
lover.  You  robbed  and  defrauded  both.  Cannot  you 
now  see  your  mistake?  To  take  it  on  the  lowest  ground, 
Dalmain,  worshipper  of  beauty  as  he  was,  had  had  a 
surfeit  of  pretty  faces.  He  was  like  the  confectioner's 
boy  who  when  first  engaged  is  allowed  to  eat  all  the 


1 64  The  Rosary 

cakes  and  sweets  he  likes,  and  who  eats  so  many  in  the 
first  week,  that  ever  after  he  wants  only  plain  bread- 
and-butter.  You  were  Dai's  bread-and-butter.  I  am 
sorry  if  you  do  not  like  the  simile. " 

Jane  smiled.    "I  do  like  the  simile, "  she  said. 

"Ah,  but  you  were  far  more  than  this,  my  dear 
girl.  You  were  his  ideal  of  womanhood.  He  believed 
in  your  strength  and  tenderness,  your  graciousness  and 
truth.  You  shattered  this  ideal;  you  failed  this  faith 
in  you.  His  fanciful,  artistic,  eclectic  nature  with  all  its 
unused  possibilities  of  faithful  and  passionate  devotion, 
had  found  its  haven  in  your  love;  and  in  twelve  hours 
you  turned  it  adrift.  Jane — it  was  a  crime.  The  mag- 
nificent strength  of  the  fellow  is  shown  by  the  way  he 
took  it.  His  progress  in  his  art  was  not  arrested.  All 
his  best  work  has  been  done  since.  He  has  made  no  bad 
mad  marriage,  in  mockery  of  his  own  pain ;  and  no  grand 
loveless  one,  to  spite  you.  He  might  have  done  both — I 
mean  either.  And  when  I  realise  that  the  poor  fellow  I 
was  with  yesterday — making  such  a  brave  fight  in  the 
dark,  and  turning  his  head  on  the  pillow  to  say  with  a 
gleam  of  hope  on  his  drawn  face:  'Where  Thou  art 
Guide,  no  ill  can  come' — had  already  been  put  through 
all  this  by  you — Jane,  if  you  were  a  man,  I'd  horsewhip 
you!"  said  the  doctor. 

Jane  squared  her  shoulders  and  lifted  her  head  with 
more  of  her  old  spirit  than  she  had  yet  shown. 

"You  have  lashed  me  well,  Boy,"  she  said,  "as  only 
words  spoken  in  faithful  indignation  can  lash.  And 
I  feel  the  better  for  the  pain. — And  now  I  think  I  ought 
to  tell  you  that  while  I  was  on  the  top  of  the  Great 
Pyramid  I  suddenly  saw  the  matter  from  a  different 
standpoint.  You  remember  that  view,  with  its  sharp 
line   of  demarcation?       On    one    side    the  river,   and 


The  Consultation  165 

verdure,  vegetation,  fruitfulness,  a  veritable  'garden 
enclosed';  on  the  other,  vast  space  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach ;  golden  liberty,  away  to  the  horizon,  but  no 
sign  of  vegetation,  no  hope  of  cultivation,  just  barren, 
arid,  loneliness.  I  felt  this  was  an  exact  picture  of  my 
life  as  I  live  it  now.  Garth's  love,  flowing  through  it, 
as  the  river,  could  have  made  it  a  veritable  'garden  of 
the  Lord.'  It  would  have  meant  less  liberty,  but  it 
would  also  have  meant  no  loneliness.  And,  after  all, 
the  liberty  to  live  for  self  alone  becomes  in  time  a 
weary  bondage.  Then  I  realised  that  I  had  condemned 
him  also  to  this  hard  desert  life.  I  came  down  and  took 
counsel  of  the  old  Sphinx.  Those  calm,  wise  eyes,  look- 
ing on  into  futurity,  seemed  to  say:  'They  only  live  who 
love. '  That  evening  I  resolved  to  give  up  the  Nile  trip, 
return  home  immediately,  send  for  Garth,  admit  all  to 
him,  asking  him  to  let  us  both  begin  again  just  where  we 
were  three  years  ago  in  the  moonlight  on  the  terrace  at 
Shenstone.  Ten  minutes  after  I  had  formed  this  decision, 
I  heard  of  his  accident. " 

The  doctor  shaded  his  face  with  his  hand.  "The 
wheels  of  time,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "move  forward 
— always;  backward,  never." 

"Oh,  Deryck, "  cried  Jane,  "sometimes  they  do. 
You  and  Flower  know  that  sometimes  they  do." 

The  doctor  smiled  sadly  and  very  tenderly.  "I 
know, "  he  said,  "that  there  is  always  one  exception  which 
proves  every  rule."  Then  he  added  quickly:  "But,  un- 
questionably, it  helps  to  mend  matters,  so  far  as  your  own 
mental  attitude  is  concerned,  that  before  you  knew  of 
Dalmain's  blindness  you  should  have  admitted  yourself 
wrong,  and  made  up  your  mind  to  trust  him. " 

"I  don't  know  that  I  was  altogether  clear  about 
having  been  wrong,"  said  Jane,  "but  I  was  quite  con- 


1 66  The  Rosary 

vinced  that  I  couldn't  live  any  longer  without  him,  and 
was  therefore  prepared  to  risk  it.  And  of  course  now, 
all  doubt  or  need  to  question  is  swept  away  by  my  poor 
boy's  accident,  which  simplifies  matters,  where  that 
particular  point  is  concerned." 

The  doctor  looked  at  Jane  with  a  sudden  raising  of 
his  level  brows.    "Simplifies  matters?"  he  said. 

Then,  as  Jane,  apparently  satisfied  with  the  expres- 
sion, did  not  attempt  to  qualify  it,  he  rose  and  stirred 
the  fire;  standing  over  it  for  a  few  moments  in  silent 
thought.  When  he  sat  down  again,  his  voice  was  very 
quiet,  but  there  was  an  alertness  about  his  expression 
which  roused  Jane.  She  felt  that  the  crisis  of  their 
conversation  had  been  reached. 

"And  now,  my  dear  Jeanette, "  said  the  doctor, 
"suppose  you  tell  me  what  you  intend  doing." 

"Doing?"  said  Jane.  "Why,  of  course,  I  shall  go 
straight  to  Garth.  I  only  want  you  to  advise  me  how 
best  to  let  him  know  I  am  coming,  and  whether  it  is 
safe  for  him  to  have  the  emotion  of  my  arrival.  Also 
I  don't  want  to  risk  being  kept  from  him  by  doctors  or 
nurses.  My  place  is  by  his  side.  I  ask  no  better  thing 
of  life  than  to  be  always  beside  him.  But  sick-room 
attendants  are  apt  to  be  pig-headed;  and  a  fuss  under 
these  circumstances  would  be  unbearable.  A  wire  from 
you  will  make  all  clear. " 

"I  see,"  said  the  doctor  slowly.  "Yes,  a  wire  from 
me  will  undoubtedly  open  a  way  for  you  to  Garth 
Dalmain's  bedside.    And,  arrived  there,  what  then?" 

A  smile  of  ineffable  tenderness  parted  Jane's  lips. 
The  doctor  saw  it,  but  turned  away  immediately.  It 
was  not  for  him,  or  for  any  man,  to  see  that  look.  The 
eyes  which  should  have  seen  it  were  sightless  evermore. 

"What  then,   Deryck?     Love  will  know  best  what 


The  Consultation  167 

then.  All  barriers  will  be  swept  away,  and  Garth  and  1 
will  be  together." 

The  doctor's  finger-tips  met  very  exactly  before  he 
spoke  again;  and  when  he  did  speak,  his  tone  was  very 
level  and  very  kind. 

"Ah,  Jane, ' '  he  said, ' '  that  is  the  woman's  point  of  view. 
It  is  certainly  the  simplest,  and  perhaps  the  best.  But  at 
Garth's  bedside  you  will  be  confronted  with  the  man's 
point  of  view ;  and  I  should  be  failing  the  trust  you  have 
placed  in  me  did  I  not  put  that  before  you  now. — From  the 
man's  point  of  view,  your  own  mistaken  action  three  years 
ago  has  placed  you  now  in  an  almost  impossible  position. 
If  you  go  to  Garth  with  the  simple  offer  of  your  love — the 
treasure  he  asked  three  years  ago  and  failed  to  win — he  will 
naturally  conclude  the  love  now  given  is  mainly  pity ;  and 
Garth  Dalmain  is  not  the  man  to  be  content  with  pity, 
where  he  has  thought  to  win  love,  and  failed.  Nor  would 
he  allow  any  woman — least  of  all  his  crown  of  womanhood 
— to  tie  herself  to  his  blindness  unless  he  were  sure  such 
binding  was  her  deepest  joy.  And  how  could  you  expect 
him  to  believe  this  in  face  of  the  fact  that,  when  he  was  all 
a  woman's  heart  could  desire,  you  refused  him  and  sent  him 
from  you  ? — If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  explain ,  as  no  doubt 
you  intend  to  do,  the  reason  of  that  refusal,  he  can  but  say 
one  thing :  '  You  could  not  trust  me  to  be  faithful  when  I 
had  my  sight.  Blind,  you  come  to  me,  when  it  is  no  longer 
in  my  power  to  prove  my  fidelity.  There  is  no  virtue  in 
necessity.  I  can  never  feel  I  possess  your  trust,  because 
you  come  to  me  only  when  accident  has  put  it  out  of  my 
power  either  to  do  the  thing  you  feared,  or  to  prove  myself 
better  than  your  doubts. '  My  dear  girl,  that  is  how  mat- 
ters stand  from  the  man's  point  of  view;  from  his,  I  make 
no  doubt,  even  more  than  from  mine ;  for  I  recognise  in 
Garth  Dalmain  a  stronger  man  than  myself.     Had  it  been 


1 68  The  Rosary 

I  that  day  in  the  church,  wanting  you  as  he  did,  I  should 
have  grovelled  at  your  feet  and  promised  to  grow  up. 
Garth  Dalmain  had  the  iron  strength  to  turn  and  go,  with- 
out a  protest,  when  the  woman  who  had  owned  him  mate 
the  evening  before,  refused  him  on  the  score  of  inade- 
quacy the  next  morning.  I  fear  there  is  no  question  of  the 
view  he  would  take  of  the  situation  as  it  now  stands. " 

Jane's  pale,  startled  face  went  to  the  doctor's  heart. 

"But  Deryck — he — loves " 

"Just  because  he  loves,  my  poor  old  girl,  where  you 
are  concerned  he  could  never  be  content  with  less  than 
the  best. " 

"Oh,  Boy,  help  me!  Find  a  way!  Tell  me  what  to 
do!"    Despair  was  in  Jane's  eyes. 

The  doctor  considered  long,  in  silence.  At  last  he 
said:  "I  see  only  one  way  out.  If  Dal  could  some- 
how be  brought  to  realise  your  point  of  view  at  that 
time  as  a  possible  one,  without  knowing  it  had  actu- 
ally been  the  cause  of  your  refusal  of  him,  and  could 
have  the  chance  to  express  himself  clearly  on  the  sub- 
ject— to  me,  for  instance — in  a  way  which  might  reach 
you  without  being  meant  to  reach  you,  it  might  put 
you  in  a  better  position  toward  him.  But  it  would 
be  difficult  to  manage.  If  you  could  be  in  close  contact 
with  his  mind,  constantly  near  him  unseen — ah,  poor 
chap,  that  is  easy  now — I  mean  unknown  to  him;  if, 
for  instance,  you  could  be  in  the  shoes  of  this  nurse- 
companion  person  I  am  sending  him,  and  get  at  his  mind 
on  the  matter ;  so  that  he  could  feel  when  you  eventually 
made  your  confession,  he  had  already  justified  himself  to 
you,  and  thus  gone  behind  his  blindness,  as  it  were." 

Jane  bounded  in  her  chair.  "  Deryck,  I  have  it !  Oh, 
send  me  as  his  nurse-companion !  He  would  never  dream 
it  was  I.     It  is  three  years  since  he  heard  my  voice,  and  he 


The  Consultation  169 

thinks  me  in  Egypt.  The  society  column  in  all  the  papers, 
a  few  weeks  ago,  mentioned  me  as  wintering  in  Egypt  and 
Syria  and  remaining  abroad  until  May.  Not  a  soul  knows 
I  have  come  home.  You  are  the  best  judge  as  to  whether 
I  have  had  training  and  experience ;  and  all  through  the 
war  our  work  was  fully  as  much  mental  and  spiritual, 
as  surgical.  It  was  not  up  to  much  otherwise.  Oh, 
Dicky,  you  could  safely  recommend  me;  and  I  still 
have  my  uniforms  stowed  away  in  case  of  need.  I  could 
be  ready  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  I  would  go  as  Sister 
— anything,  and  eat  in  the  kitchen  if  necessary. " 

"But,  my  dear  girl,"  said  the  doctor  quietly,  "you 
could  not  go  as  Sister  Anything,  unfortunately.  You 
could  only  go  as  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray;  for  I  engaged 
her  this  morning,  and  posted  a  full  and  explicit  account 
of  her  to  Dr.  Mackenzie,  which  he  will  read  to  our 
patient.  I  never  take  a  case  from  one  nurse  and  give 
it  to  another,  excepting  for  incompetency.  And  Nurse 
Rosemary  Gray  could  more  easily  fly,  than  prove 
incompetent.  She  will  not  be  required  to  eat  in  the 
kitchen.  She  is  a  gentlewoman,  and  will  be  treated 
as  such.  I  wish  indeed  you  could  be  in  her  shoes,  though 
I  doubt  whether  you  could  have  carried  it  through. — 
And  now  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  Just  before  I 
left  him,  Dalmain  asked  after  you.  He  sandwiched  you 
most  carefully  in  between  the  duchess  and  Flower;  but 
he  could  not  keep  the  blood  out  of  his  thin  cheeks,  and 
he  gripped  the  bedclothes  in  his  effort  to  keep  his  voice 
steady.  He  asked  where  you  were.  I  said,  I  believed, 
in  Egypt.  When  you  were  coming  home.  I  told  him 
I  had  heard  you  intended  returning  to  Jerusalem  for 
Easter,  and  I  supposed  we  might  expect  you  home  at 
the  end  of  April  or  early  in  May.  He  inquired  how  you 
were.    I  replied  that  you  were  not  a  good  correspondent, 


170  The  Rosary 

but  I  gathered  from  occasional  cables  and  post-cards 
that  you  were  very  fit  and  having  a  good  time.  I  then 
volunteered  the  statement  that  it  was  I  who  had  sent 
you  abroad  because  you  were  going  all  to  pieces.  He 
made  a  quick  movement  with  his  hand  as  if  he  would 
have  struck  me  for  using  the  expression.  Then  he  said: 
'Going  to  pieces?  She!1  in  a  tone  of  most  utter  con- 
tempt for  me  and  my  opinions.  Then  he  hastily  made 
minute  inquiries  for  Flower.  He  had  already  asked 
about  the  duchess  all  the  questions  he  intended  asking 
about  you.  When  he  had  ascertained  that  Flower  was 
at  home  and  well,  and  had  sent  him  her  affectionate 
sympathy,  he  begged  me  to  glance  through  a  pile  of 
letters  which  were  waiting  until  he  felt  able  to  have  them 
read  to  him,  and  to  tell  him  any  of  the  handwritings 
known  to  me.  All  the  world  seemed  to  have  sent  him 
letters  of  sympathy,  poor  chap.  I  told  him  a  dozen  or  so 
of  the  names  I  knew, — a  royal  handwriting  among  them. 
He  asked  whether  there  were  any  from  abroad.  There 
were  two  or  three.  I  knew  them  all,  and  named  them. 
He  could  not  bear  to  hear  any  of  them  read;  even  the 
royal  letter  remained  unopened,  though  he  asked  to  have 
it  in  his  hand,  and  fingered  the  tiny  crimson  crown.  Then 
he  asked.  'Is  there  one  from  the  duchess?'  There  was. 
He  wished  to  hear  that  one,  so  I  opened  and  read  it. 
It  was  very  characteristic  of  her  Grace;  full  of  kindly 
sympathy,  heartily  yet  tactfully  expressed.  Half-way 
through  she  said:  'Jane  will  be  upset.  I  shall  write 
and  tell  her  next  time  she  sends  me  an  address.  At 
present  I  have  no  idea  in  which  quarter  of  the  globe 
my  dear  niece  is  to  be  found.  Last  time  I  heard  of 
her  she  seemed  in  a  fair  way  towards  marrying  a  little 
Jap  and  settling  in  Japan.  Not  a  bad  idea,  my  dear 
Dal,  is  it?     Though,  if  Japan  is  at  all  like  the  paper 


The  Consultation  171 

screens,  I  don't  know  where  in  that  Liliputian  country 
they  will  find  a  house,  or  a  husband,  or  a  what-do-you- 
call-'em  thing  they  ride  in,  solid  enough  for  our  good 
Jane!'  With  intuitive  tact  of  a  very  high  order,  I 
omitted  this  entire  passage  about  marrying  the  Jap. 
When  your  aunt's  letter  was  finished,  he  asked  point 
blank  whether  there  was  one  from  you.  I  said  No, 
but  that  it  was  unlikely  the  news  had  reached  you, 
and  I  felt  sure  you  would  write  when  it  did.  So  I  hope 
you  will,  dear;  and  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray  will  have 
instructions  to  read  all  his  letters  to  him." 

"Oh,  Deryck, "  said  Jane  brokenly,  "I  can't  bear 
it!     I  must  go  to  him!" 

The  telephone  bell  on  the  doctor's  table  whirred 
sharply.    He  went  over  and  took  up  the  receiver. 

"Hullo!  .  .  .  Yes,  it  is  Dr.  Brand.  .  .  .  Who  is  speak- 
ing? .  .  .  Oh,  is  it  you,  Matron?" — Jane  felt  quite  sorry 
the  matron  could  not  see  the  doctor's  charming  smile  into 
the  telephone. — "Yes?  What  name  did  you  say?  .  .  . 
Undoubtedly.  This  morning;  quite  definitely.  A  most 
important  case.  She  is  to  call  and  see  me  to-night.  .  .  . 
What?  .  .  .  Mistake  on  register?  Ah,  I  see.  .  .  .  Gone 
where?  .  .  .  Where?  .  .  .  Spell  it,  please.  .  .  .  Australia! 
Oh,  quite  out  of  reach!  .  .  .  Yes,  I  heard  he  was  ordered 
there.  .  .  .  Never  mind,  Matron.  You  are  in  no  way  to 
blame.  .  .  .  Thanks,  I  think  not.  I  have  some  one  in 
view.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  Yes.  .  .  .  No  doubt  she  might  do. 
...  I  will  let  you  know  if  I  should  require  her.  .  .  . 
Good-bye,  Matron,  and  thank  you. " 

The  doctor  hung  up  the  receiver.  Then  he  turned  to 
Jane;  a  slow,  half -doubtful  smile  gathering  on  his  lips. 

"Jeanette, "  he  said,  "I  do  not  believe  in  chance. 
But  I  do  believe  in  a  Higher  Control,  which  makes 
and  unmakes  our  plans.     You  shall  go." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   DOCTOR   FINDS   A   WAY 

AND  now  as  to  ways  and  means,"  said  the  doctor, 
when  Jane  felt  better.  "You  must  leave  by  the 
night  mail  from  Euston,  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Can 
you  be  ready?" 

"  I  am  ready,  "  said  Jane. 

'You  must  go  as  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray." 

"I  don't  like  that,"  Jane  interposed.  "I  should 
prefer  a  fictitious  name.  Suppose  the  real  Rosemary 
Gray  turned  up,  or  some  one  who  knows  her. " 

"My  dear  girl,  she  is  half-way  to  Australia  by  now, 
and  you  will  see  no  one  up  there  but  the  household 
and  the  doctor.  Any  one  who  turned  up  would  be 
more  likely  to  know  you.  We  must  take  these  risks. 
Besides,  in  case  of  complications  arising,  I  will  give 
you  a  note,  which  you  can  produce  at  once,  explaining 
the  situation,  and  stating  that  in  agreeing  to  fill  the 
breach  you  consented  at  my  request  to  take  the  name 
in  order  to  prevent  any  necessity  for  explanations  to 
the  patient,  which  at  this  particular  juncture  would 
be  most  prejudicial.  I  can  honestly  say  this,  it  being 
even  more  true  than  appears.  So  you  must  dress  the 
part,  Jane,  and  endeavour  to  look  the  part,  so  far  as 
your  five  foot  eleven  will  permit;  for  please  remember 
that  I  have  described  you  to  Dr.  Mackenzie  as  'a  pretty, 
dainty  little  thing,  refined  and  elegant,  and  considerably 
more  capable  than  she  looks. '  " 

"Dicky!     He  will  instantly  realise  that  I   am  not 
the  person  mentioned  in  your  letter. " 

172 


The  Doctor  Finds  a  Way  173 


a  ■ 


Not  so,  dear.  Remember  we  have  to  do  with  a 
Scotchman,  and  a  Scotchman  never  realises  anything 
'instantly.'  The  Gaelic  mind  works  slowly,  though 
it  works  exceeding  sure.  He  will  be  exceeding  sure, 
when  he  has  contemplated  you  for  a  while,  that  I  am 
a  'verra  poor  judge  o'  women,'  and  that  Nurse  Gray 
is  a  far  finer  woman  than  I  described.  But  he  will 
have  already  created  for  Dalmain,  from  my  letter,  a 
mental  picture  of  his  nurse;  which  is  all  that  really 
matters.  We  must  trust  to  Providence  that  old  Robbie 
does  not  proceed  to  amend  it  by  the  original.  Try  to 
forestall  any  such  conversation.  If  the  good  doctor 
seems  to  mistrust  you,  take  him  on  one  side,  show  him 
my  letter,  and  tell  him  the  simple  truth.  But  I  do  not 
suppose  this  will  be  necessary.  With  the  patient,  you 
must  remember  the  extreme  sensitiveness  of  a  blind 
man's  hearing.  Tread  lightly.  Do  not  give  him  any 
opportunity  to  judge  of  your  height.  Try  to  remember 
that  you  are  not  supposed  to  be  able  to  reach  the  top 
shelf  of  an  eight-foot  bookcase  without  the  aid  of  steps 
or  a  chair.  And  when  the  patient  begins  to  stand  and 
walk,  try  to  keep  him  from  finding  out  that  his  nurse  is 
slightly  taller  than  himself.  This  should  not  be  difficult ; 
one  of  his  fixed  ideas  being  that  in  his  blindness  he  will 
not  be  touched  by  a  woman.  His  valet  will  lead  him 
about.  And,  Jane,  I  cannot  imagine  any  one  who  has 
ever  had  your  hand  in  his,  failing  to  recognise  it.  So  I 
advise  you,  from  the  first,  to  avoid  shaking  hands.  But 
all  these  precautions  do  not  obviate  the  greatest  difficulty 
of  all, — your  voice.  Do  you  suppose,  for  a  moment, 
he  will  not  recognise  that?" 

"I  shall  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  in  that  case," 
said  Jane,  "and  you  must  help  me.  Explain  the 
fact   to    me    now,  as    you    might  do  if  I  were  really 


174  The  Rosary 

Nurse  Rosemary  Gray,  and  had  a  voice  so  like  my 


own." 


The  doctor  smiled.  "My  dear  Nurse  Rosemary," 
he  said,  "you  must  not  be  surprised  if  our  patient 
detects  a  remarkable  similarity  between  your  voice 
and  that  of  a  mutual  friend  of  his  and  mine.  I  have 
constantly  noticed  it  myself." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  Jane.  "And  may  I  know  whose 
voice  mine  so  closely  resembles?" 

"The  Honourable  Jane  Champion's,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, with  the  delightful  smile  with  which  he  always 
spoke  to  his  nurses.    "Do  you  know  her?" 

"Slightly, "  said  Jane,  "and  I  hope  to  know  her  better 
and  better  as  the  years  go  by. " 

Then  they  both  laughed.  "  Thank  you,  Dicky.  Now 
I  shall  know  what  to  say  to  the  patient. — Ah,  but  the 
misery  of  it!  Think  of  it  being  possible  thus  to  deceive 
Garth, — Garth  of  the  bright,  keen  all-perceiving  vision! 
Shall  I  ever  have  the  courage  to  carry  it  through?" 

"If  you  value  your  own  eventual  happiness  and  his 
you  will,  dear.  And  now  I  must  order  the  brougham 
and  speed  you  to  Portland  Place,  or  you  will  be  late 
for  dinner,  a  thing  the  duchess  cannot  overlook  'as 
you  very  well  know, '  even  in  a  traveller  returned  from 
round  the  world.  And  if  you  take  my  advice,  you 
will  tell  your  kind,  sensible  old  aunt  the  whole  story, 
omitting  of  course  all  moonlight  details,  and  consult 
her  about  this  plan.  Her  shrewd  counsel  will  be  in- 
valuable, and  you  may  be  glad  of  her  assistance  later 


on. 


They  rose  and  faced  each  other  on  the  hearth-rug. 

"Boy,"  said  Jane  with  emotion,  "you  have  been 
so  good  to  me,  and  so  faithful.  Whatever  happens, 
I  shall  be  grateful  always. " 


The  Doctor  Finds  a  Way  175 

"Hush,"  said  the  doctor.  "No  need  for  gratitude 
when  long-standing  debts  are  paid. — To-morrow  I  shall 
not  have  a  free  moment,  and  I  foresee  the  next  day 
as  very  full  also.  But  we  might  dine  together  at  Euston 
at  seven,  and  I  will  see  you  off.  Your  train  leaves  at 
eight  o'clock,  getting  you  to  Aberdeen  soon  after  seven 
the  next  morning,  and  out  to  Gleneesh  in  time  for 
breakfast.  You  will  enjoy  arriving  in  the  early  morning 
light;  and  the  air  of  the  moors  braces  you  wonderfully. 
— Thank  you,  Stoddart.  Miss  Champion  is  ready. 
Hullo,  Flower!  Look  up,  Jane.  Flower,  and  Dicky, 
and  Blossom,  are  hanging  over  the  topmost  banisters, 
dropping  you  showers  of  kisses.  Yes,  the  river  you 
mentioned  does  produce  a  veritable  '  garden  of  the*Lord. ' 
God  send  you  the  same,  dear.  And  now,  sit  well  back, 
and  lower  your  veil.  Ah,  I  remember,  you  don't  wear 
them.  Wise  girl!  If  all  women  followed  your  example 
it  would  impoverish  the  opticians.  Why?  Oh,  constant 
focussing  on  spots,  for  one  thing.  But  lean  back,  for  you 
must  not  be  seen  if  you  are  supposed  to  be  still  in  Cairo, 
waiting  to  go  up  the  Nile.  And,  look  here" — the  doctor 
put  his  head  in  at  the  carriage  window — "very  plain 
luggage,  mind.  The  sort  of  thing  nurses  speak  of  as  'my 
box';  with  a  very  obvious  R.  G.  on  it!" 

"Thank  you,  Boy,"  whispered  Jane.  "You  think  of 
everything." 

"I  think  of  you, "  said  the  doctor.  And  in  all  the 
hard  days  to  come,  Jane  often  found  comfort  in 
remembering  those  last  quiet  words. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


ENTER — NURSE   ROSEMARY 


NURSE     ROSEMARY     GRAY     had    arrived     at 
Gleneesh. 

When  she  and  her  "box"  were  deposited  on  the 
platform  of  the  little  wayside  railway  station,  she  felt 
she  had  indeed  dropped  from  the  clouds ;  leaving  her  own 
world,  and  her  own  identity,  on  some  far-distant  planet. 

A  motor  waited  outside  the  station,  and  she  had 
a  momentary  fear  lest  she  should  receive  deferential 
recognition  from  the  chauffeur.  But  he  was  as  solid 
and  stolid  as  any  other  portion  of  the  car,  and  paid 
no  more  attention  to  her  than  he  did  to  her  baggage. 
The  one  was  a  nurse;  the  other,  a  box,  both  common 
nouns,  and  merely  articles  to  be  conveyed  to  Gleneesh 
according  to  orders.  So  he  looked  straight  before 
him,  presenting  a  sphinx-like  profile  beneath  the  peak 
of  his  leather  cap,  while  a  slow  and  solemn  porter  helped 
Jane  and  her  luggage  into  the  motor.  When  she  had 
rewarded  the  porter  with  threepence,  conscientiously 
endeavouring  to  live  down  to  her  box,  the  chauffeur 
moved  foot  and  hand  with  the  silent  precision  of  a 
machine,  they  swung  round  into  the  open,  and  took  the 
road  for  the  hills. 

Up  into  the  fragrant  heather  and  grey  rocks;  miles 
of  moor  and  sky  and  solitude.  More  than  ever  Jane 
felt  as  if  she  had  dropped  into  another  world,  and  so 
small  an  incident  as  the  omission  of  the  usual  respectful 
salute  of  a  servant,  gave  her  a  delightful  sense  of  success 
and  security  in  her  new  role. 

176 


Enter — Nurse  Rosemary  177 

She  had  often  heard  of  Garth's  old  castle  up  in  the 
North,  an  inheritance  from  his  mother's  family,  but 
was  hardly  prepared  for  so  much  picturesque  beauty 
or  such  stateliness  of  archway  and  entrance.  As  they 
wound  up  the  hillside  and  the  grey  turrets  came  into 
view,  with  pine  woods  behind  and  above,  she  seemed 
to  hear  Garth's  boyish  voice  under  the  cedar  at  Over- 
dene,  with  its  ring  of  buoyant  enjoyment,  saying:  "I 
should  like  you  to  see  Castle  Gleneesh.  You  would 
enjoy  the  view  from  the  terrace;  and  the  pine  woods, 
and  the  moor."  And  then  he  had  laughingly  declared 
his  intention  of  getting  up  a  "best  party"  of  his  own, 
with  the  duchess  as  chaperon;  and  she  had  promised 
to  make  one  of  it.  And  now  he,  the  owner  of  all  this 
loveliness,  was  blind  and  helpless;  and  she  was  enter- 
ing the  fair  portals  of  Gleneesh,  unknown  to  him, 
unrecognised  by  any,  as  a  nurse- secretary  sort  of  person. 
Jane  had  said  at  Overdene:  "Yes,  ask  us,  and  see  what 
happens."  And  now  this  was  happening.  What  would 
happen  next? 

Garth's  man,  Simpson,  received  her  at  the  door, 
and  again  a  possible  danger  was  safely  passed.  He 
had  entered  Garth's  service  within  the  last  three  years 
and  evidently  did  not  know  her  by  sight. 

Jane  stood  looking  round  the  old  hall,  in  the  leisurely 
way  of  one  accustomed  to  arrive  for  the  first  time  as 
guest  at  the  country  homes  of  her  friends;  noting  the 
quaint,  large  fireplace,  and  the  shadowy  antlers  high 
up  on  the  walls.  Then  she  became  aware  that  Simp- 
son, already  half-way  up  the  wide  oak  staircase,  was 
expecting  the  nurse  to  hurry  after  him.  This  she  did, 
and  was  received  at  the  top  of  the  staircase  by  old 
Margery.  It  did  not  require  the  lawn  kerchief,  the 
black  satki  apron,  and  the  lavender  ribbons,  for  Jane 
12 


178  The  Rosary 

to  recognise  Garth's  old  Scotch  nurse,  housekeeper, 
and  friend.  One  glance  at  the  grave,  kindly  face, 
wrinkled  and  rosy, — a  beautiful  combination  of  perfect 
health  and  advancing  years, — was  enough.  The  shrewd, 
keen  eyes,  seeing  quickly  beneath  the  surface,  were 
unmistakable.  She  conducted  Jane  to  her  room,  talking 
all  the  time  in  a  kindly  effort  to  set  her  at  her  ease,  and 
to  express  a  warm  welcome  with  gentle  dignity,  not 
forgetting  the  cloud  of  sadness  which  hung  over  the 
house  and  rendered  her  presence  necessary.  She  called 
her  "Nurse  Gray"  at  the  conclusion  of  every  sentence, 
with  an  upward  inflection  and  pretty  rolling  of  the  r's, 
which  charmed  Jane.  She  longed  to  say:  "You  old 
dear!  How  I  shall  enjoy  being  in  the  house  with  you!" 
but  remembered  in  time  that  a  remark  which  would  have 
been  gratifying  condescension  on  the  part  of  the  Honour- 
able Jane  Champion,  would  be  little  short  of  impertinent 
familiarity  from  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray.  So  she  followed 
meekly  into  the  pretty  room  prepared  for  her;  admired 
the  chintz;  answered  questions  about  her  night  jour- 
ney; admitted  that  she  would  be  very  glad  of  breakfast, 
but  still  more  of  a  bath  if  convenient. 

And  now  bath  and  breakfast  were  both  over,  and 
Jane  was  standing  beside  the  window  in  her  room, 
looking  down  at  the  wonderful  view,  and  waiting  until 
the  local  doctor  should  arrive  and  summon  her  to 
Garth's  room. 

She  had  put  on  the  freshest-looking  and  most  business- 
like of  her  uniforms,  a  blue  print  gown,  linen  collar  and 
cuffs,  and  a  white  apron  with  shoulder  straps  and  large 
pockets.  She  also  wore  the  becoming  cap  belonging  to 
one  of  the  institutions  to  which  she  had  once  been  for 
training.  She  did  not  intend  wearing  this  later  on,  but 
just  this  morning  she  omitted  no  detail  which  could 


Enter — Nurse  Rosemary  179 

impress  Dr.  Mackenzie  with  her  extremely  professional 
appearance.  She  was  painfully  conscious  that  the 
severe  simplicity  of  her  dress  tended  rather  to  add  to  her 
height,  notwithstanding  her  low-heeled  ward  shoes  with 
their  noiseless  rubber  soles.  She  could  but  hope  Deryck 
would  prove  right  as  to  the  view  Dr.  Mackenzie  would 
take. 

And  then  far  away  in  the  distance,  along  the  white 
ribbon  of  road,  winding  up  from  the  valley,  she  saw 
a  high  gig,  trotting  swiftly;  one  man  in  it,  and  a  small 
groom  seated  behind.    Her  hour  had  come. 

Jane  fell  upon  her  knees,  at  the  window,  and  prayed 
for  strength,  wisdom,  and  courage.  She  could  realise 
absolutely  nothing.  She  had  thought  so  much  and 
so  continuously,  that  all  mental  vision  was  out  of  focus 
and  had  become  a  blur.  Even  his  dear  face  had  faded 
and  was  hidden  from  her  when  she  frantically  strove  to 
recall  it  to  her  mental  view.  Only  the  actual  fact  re- 
mained clear,  that  in  a  few  short  minutes  she  would  be 
taken  to  the  room  where  he  lay.  She  would  see  the  face 
she  had  not  seen  since  they  stood  together  at  the  chancel 
step — the  face  from  which  the  glad  confidence  slowly 
faded,  a  horror  of  chill  disillusion  taking  its  place. 

"  Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  face 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace. " 

She  would  see  that  dear  face,  and  he,  sightless,  would 
not  see  hers,  but  would  be  easily  deluded  into  believing 
her  to  be  some  one  else. 

The  gig  had  turned  the  last  bend  of  the  road,  and 
passed  out  of  sight  on  its  way  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Jane  rose  and  stood  waiting.  Suddenly  she  remem- 
bered two  sentences  of  her  conversation  with  Deryck. 
She  had  said:  "Shall  I  ever  have  the  courage  to  carry 


180  The  Rosary- 

it  through?"  And  Deryck  had  answered,  earnestly:  "If 
you  value  your  own  eventual  happiness  and  his,  you 
will." 

A  tap  came  at  her  door.     Jane  walked  across  the 
room,  and  opened  it. 

Simpson  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"Dr.  Mackenzie  is  in  the  library,  nurse,"  he  said, 
"and  wishes  to  see  you  there." 

"Then,  will  you  kindly  take  me  to  the  library,  Mr, 
Simpson. "  said  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   NAPOLEON   OF  THE   MOORS 

ON  the  bear-skin  rug,  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
stood  Dr.  Robert  Mackenzie,  known  to  his  friends 
as  "Dr.  Rob"  or  "Old  Robbie,"  according  to  their 
degrees  of  intimacy. 

Jane's  first  impression  was  of  a  short,  stout  man,  in 
a  sealskin  waistcoat  which  had  seen  better  days,  a 
light  box-cloth  overcoat  three  sizes  too  large  for  him, 
a  Napoleonic  attitude, — little  spindle  legs  planted  far 
apart,  arms  folded  on  chest,  shoulders  hunched  up, — • 
which  led  one  to  expect,  as  the  eye  travelled  upwards, 
an  ivory-white  complexion,  a  Roman  nose,  masterful 
jaw,  and  thin  lips  folded  in  a  line  of  conscious  power. 
Instead  of  which  one  found  a  red,  freckled  face,  a  nose 
which  turned  cheerfully  skyward,  a  fat  pink  chin,  and 
drooping  sandy  moustache.  The  only  striking  feature 
of  the. face  was  a  pair  of  keen  blue  eyes,  which,  when 
turned  upon  any  one  intently,  almost  disappeared 
beneath  bushy  red  eyebrows  and  became  little  points 
of  turquoise  light. 

Jane  had  not  been  in  his  presence  two  minutes  before 
she  perceived  that,  when  his  mind  was  working,  he  was 
entirely  unconscious  of  his  body,  which  was  apt  to  do 
most  peculiar  things  automatically;  so  that  his  friends 
had  passed  round  the  remark:  "Robbie  chews  up  dozens 
of  good  pen-holders,  while  Dr.  Mackenzie  is  thinking  out 
excellent  prescriptions." 

When  Jane  entered,  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  an  open 
letter,  which   she  instinctively   knew  to   be   Deryck's, 

181 


1 82  The  Rosary 

and  he  did  not  look  up  at  once.  When  he  did  look  up, 
she  saw  his  unmistakable  start  of  surprise.  He  opened 
his  mouth  to  speak,  and  Jane  was  irresistibly  reminded 
of  a  tame  goldfish  at  Overdene,  which  used  to  rise  to  the 
surface  when  the  duchess  dropped  crumbs.  He  closed  it 
without  uttering  a  word,  and  turned  again  to  Deryck's 
letter;  and  Jane  felt  herself  to  be  the  crumb,  or  rather 
the  camel,  which  he  was  finding  it  difficult  to  swallow. 

She  ivaited  in  respectful  silence,  and  Deryck's  words 
passed  with  calming  effect  through  the  palpitating  sus- 
pense of  her  brain.  "The  Gaelic  mind  works  slowly, 
though  it  works  exceeding  sure.  He  will  be  exceeding 
sure  that  I  am  a  verra  poor  judge  o'  women. " 

At  last  the  little  man  on  the  hearth-rug  lifted  his 
eyes  again  to  Jane's;  and,  alas,  how  high  he  had  to 
lift  them! 

"Nurse — er?"  he  said  inquiringly,  and  Jane  thought 
his  searching  eyes  looked  like  little  bits  of  broken 
blue  china  in  a  hay-stack. 

"Rosemary  Gray,"  replied  Jane  meekly,  with  a 
curtsey  in  her  voice;  feeling  as  if  they  were  rehearsing 
amateur  theatricals  at  Overdene,  and  the  next  minute 
the  duchess's  cane  would  rap  the  floor  and  they  would 
be  told  to  speak  up  and  not  be  so  slow. 

"Ah,"  said  Dr.  Robert  Mackenzie,  "I  see." 

He  stared  hard  at  the  carpet  in  a  distant  corner  of 
the  room,  then  walked  across  and  picked  up  a  spline 
broken  from  a  bass  broom;  brought  it  back  to  the 
hearth-rug;  examined  it  with  minute  attention;  then 
put  one  end  between  his  teeth  and  began  to  chew  it. 

Jane  wondered  what  was  the  correct  thing  to  do 
at  this  sort  of  interview,  when  a  doctor  neither  sat 
down  himself  nor  suggested  that  the  nurse  should  do 
so.     She  wished  she  had  asked  Dervck.     But  he  could 


The  Napoleon  of  the  Moors         183 

not  possibly  have  enlightened  her,  because  the  first 
thing  he  always  said  to  a  nurse  was:  "My  dear  Nurse 
So-and-So,  pray  sit  down.  People  who  have  much 
unavoidable  standing  to  do  should  cultivate  the  habit 
of  seating  themselves  comfortably  at  every  possible 
opportunity." 

But  the  stout  little  person  on  the  hearth-rug  was  not 
Deryck.  So  Jane  stood  at  attention,  and  watched  the 
stiff  bit  of  bass  wag  up  and  down,  and  shorten,  inch  by 
inch.  When  it  had  finally  disappeared,  Dr.  Robert 
Mackenzie  spoke  again. 

"So  you  have  arrived,  Nurse  Gray, "  he  said. 

"Truly  the  mind  of  a  Scotchman  works  slowly," 
thought  Jane,  but  she  was  thankful  to  detect  the  com- 
plete acceptance  of  herself  in  his  tone.  Deryck  was 
right;  and  oh  the  relief  of  not  having  to  take  this  un- 
speakable little  man  into  her  confidence  in  this  matter 
of  the  deception  to  be  practised  on  Garth. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  arrived,  "  she  said. 

Another  period  of  silence.  A  fragment  of  the  bass 
broom  reappeared  and  vanished  once  more,  before  Dr. 
Mackenzie  spoke  again. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  arrived,  Nurse  Gray, "  he  said. 

"I  am  glad  to  have  arrived,  sir,"  said  Jane  gravely, 
almost  expecting  to  hear  the  duchess's  delighted  "Ha, 
ha! "  from  the  wings.    The  little  comedy  was  progressing. 

Then  suddenly  she  became  aware  that  during  the 
last  few  minutes  Dr.  Mackenzie's  mind  had  been  con- 
centrated upon  something  else.  She  had  not  filled  it  at 
all.  The  next  moment  it  was  turned  upon  her  and  two 
swift  turquoise  gleams  from  under  the  shaggy  brows 
swept  over  her,  with  the  rapidity  and  brightness  of 
search-lights.  Dr.  Mackenzie  commenced  speaking 
quickly,  with  a  wonderful  rolling  of  r's. 


1 84  The  Rosary 

"I  understand,  Miss  Gray,  you  have  come  to  minister 
to  the  patient's  mind  rather  than  to  his  body.  You 
need  not  trouble  to  explain.  I  have  it  from  Sir  Deryck 
Brand,  who  prescribed  a  nurse-companion  for  the  patient, 
and  engaged  you.  I  fully  agreed  with  his  prescription; 
and,  allow  me  to  say,  I  admire  its  ingredients." 

Jane  bowed,  and  realised  how  the  duchess  would 
be  chuckling.  What  an  insufferable  little  person!  Jane 
had  time  to  think  this,  while  he  walked  across  to  the 
table-cloth,  bent  over  it,  and  examined  an  ancient 
spot  of  ink.  Finding  a  drop  of  candle  grease  near  it, 
he  removed  it  with  his  thumb  nail;  brought  it  care- 
fully to  the  fire,  and  laid  it  on  the  coals.  He  watched 
it  melt,  fizzle,  and  flare,  with  an  intense  concentration 
of  interest;  then  jumped  round  on  Jane,  and  caught 
her  look  of  fury. 

"And  I  think  there  remains  very  little  for  me  to 
say  to  you  about  the  treatment,  Miss  Gray, "  he  finished 
calmly.  "You  will  have  received  minute  instructions 
from  Sir  Deryck  himself.  The  great  thing  now  is  to 
help  the  patient  to  take  an  interest  in  the  outer  world. 
The  temptation  to  persons  who  suddenly  become  totally 
blind,  is  to  form  a  habit  of  living  entirely  in  a  world 
within;  a  world  of  recollection,  retrospection,  and 
imagination;  the  only  world,  in  fact,  in  which  they  can 
see." 

Jane  made  a  quick  movement  of  appreciation  and 
interest.  After  all  she  might  learn  something  useful 
from  this  eccentric  little  Scotchman.  Oh  to  keep  his 
attention  off  rubbish  on  the  carpet,  and  grease  spots  on 
the  table-cloth! 

"Yes?"  she  said.    " Do  tell  me  more. " 

"This,"  continued  Dr.  Mackenzie,  "is  our  present 
difficulty  with  Mr.   Dalmain.     There  seems  to  be  no 


The  Napoleon  of  the  Moors         185 

possibility  of  arousing  his  interest  in  the  outside  world. 
He  refuses  to  receive  visitors;  he  declines  to  hear  his 
letters.  Hours  pass  without  a  word  being  spoken  by 
him.  Unless  you  hear  him  speak  to  me  or  to  his  valet, 
you  will  easily  suppose  yourself  to  have  a  patient  who 
has  lost  the  power  of  speech  as  well  as  the  gift  of  sight. 
Should  he  express  a  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone  when  we 
are  with  him,  do  not  leave  the  room.  Walk  over  to  the 
fireplace  and  remain  there.  I  desire  that  you  should  hear, 
that  when  he  chooses  to  rouse  and  make  an  effort,  he  is 
perfectly  well  able  to  do  so.  The  most  important  part 
of  your  duties,  Nurse  Gray,  will  be  the  aiding  him  day  by 
day  to  resume  life, — the  life  of  a  blind  man,  it  is  true;  but 
not  therefore  necessarily  an  inactive  life.  Now  that  all 
danger  of  inflammation  from  the  wounds  has  subsided, 
he  may  get  up,  move  about,  learn  to  find  his  way  by 
sound  and  touch.  He  was  an  artist  by  profession.  He 
will  never  paint  again.  But  there  are  other  gifts  which 
may  form  reasonable  outlets  to  an  artistic  nature. " 

He  paused  suddenly,  having  apparently  caught  sight 
of  another  grease  spot,  and  walked  over  to  the  table; 
but  the  next  instant  jumped  round  on  Jane,  quick  as 
lightning,  with  a  question. 

"Does  he  play?"  said  Dr.  Rob. 

But  Jane  was  on  her  guard,  even  against  accidental 
surprises. 

"Sir  Deryck  did  not  happen  to  mention  to  me, 
Dr.  Mackenzie,  whether  Mr.  Dalmain  is  musical  or 
not." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  the  little  doctor,  resuming  his 
Napoleonic  attitude  in  the  centre  of  the  hearth-rug, 
"you  must  make  it  your  business  to  find  out.  And, 
by  the  way,  Nurse,  do  you  play  yourself?" 

"A  little,"  said  Jane. 


1 86  The  Rosary 

"Ah,"  said  Dr.  Rob.  "And  I  dare  say  you  sing  a 
little,  too?" 

Jane  acquiesced. 

"In  that  case,  my  dear  lady,  I  leave  most  explicit 
orders  that  you  neither  sing  a  little  nor  play  a  little 
to  Mr.  Dalmain.  We,  who  have  our  sight,  can 
just  endure  while  people  who  'play  a  little'  show 
us  how  little  they  can  play;  because  we  are  able 
to  look  round  about  us  and  think  of  other  things.  But 
to  a  blind  man,  with  an  artist's  sensitive  soul,  the 
experience  might  culminate  in  madness.  We  must  not 
risk  it.  I  regret  to  appear  uncomplimentary,  but  a 
patient's~welfare  must  take  precedence  of  all  other 
considerations. " 

Jane  smiled.    She  was  beginning  to  like  Dr.  Rob. 
"I  will  be  most  careful,"  she  said,  "neither  to  play 
nor  to  sing  to  Mr.  Dalmain. " 

"Good,"  said  Dr.  Mackenzie.  "But  now  let  me  tell 
you  what  you  most  certainly  may  do,  by-and-by.  Lead 
him  to  the  piano.  Place  him  there  upon  a  seat  where 
he  will  feel  secure;  none  of  your  twirly,  rickety  stools. 
Make  a  little  notch  on  the  key-board  by  which  he  can 
easily  find  middle  C.  Then  let  him  relieve  his  pent-up 
soul  by  the  painting  of  sound-pictures.  You  will  find 
this  will  soon  keep  him  happy  for  hours.  And,  if  he  is 
already  something  of  a  musician, — as  that  huge  grand 
piano,  with  no  knick-knacks  on  it  indicates, — he  may 
begin  that  sort  of  thing  at  once,  before  he  is  ready  to  be 
worried  with  the  Braille  system,  or  any  other  method  of 
instructing  the  blind.  But  contrive  an  easy  way — a 
little  notch  in  the  wood-work  below  the  note — by  means 
of  which,  without  hesitation  or  irritation,  he  can  locate 
himself  instantly  at  middle  C.  Never  mind  the  other 
notes.    It  is  all  the  seeing  he  will  require  when  once  he  is 


The  Napoleon  of  the  Moors         187 

at  the  piano.  Ha,  ha!  Not  bad  for  a  Scotchman,  eh, 
Nurse  Gray?" 

But  Jane  could  not  laugh;  though  somewhere  in  her 
mental  background  she  seemed  to  hear  laughter  and 
applause  from  the  duchess.  This  was  no  comedy  to 
Jane, — her  blind  Garth  at  the  piano,  his  dear  beautiful 
head  bent  over  the  keys,  his  fingers  feeling  for  that 
pathetic  little  notch,  to  be  made  by  herself,  below 
middle  C.  She  loathed  this  individual  who  could  make 
a  pun  on  the  subject  of  Garth's  blindness,  and,  in  the 
back  of  her  mind,  Tommy  seemed  to  join  the  duchess, 
flapping  up  and  down  on  his  perch  and  shrieking:  " Kick 
him  out!    Stop  his  jaw!" 

"And  now,"  said  Dr.  Mackenzie  unexpectedly,  "the 
next  thing  to  be  done,  Nurse  Gray,  is  to  introduce  you 
to  the  patient." 

Jane  felt  the  blood  slowly  leave  her  face  and  con- 
centrate in  a  terrible  pounding  at  her  heart.  But  she 
stood  her  ground,  and  waited  silently. 

Dr.  Mackenzie  rang  the  bell.    Simpson  appeared. 

"A  decanter  of  sherry,  a  wine-glass,  and  a  couple  of 
biscuits,"  said  Dr.  Rob. 

Simpson  vanished. 

"Little  beast!"  thought  Jane.  "At  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning!" 

Dr.  Rob  stood,  and  waited;  tugging  spitefully  at 
his  red  moustache,  and  looking  intently  out  of  the 
window. 

Simpson  reappeared,  placed  a  small  tray  on  the 
table,  and  went  quietly  out,  closing  the  door  behind 
him. 

Dr.  Rob  poured  out  a  glass  of  sherry,  drew  up  a 
chair  to  the  table,  and  said:  "Now,  Nurse,  sit  down  and 
drink  that,  and  take  a  biscuit  with  it." 


1 88  The  Rosary 

Jane  protested.     "But,  indeed,  doctor,  I  never " 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  'never,'  "  said  Dr.  Rob, 
"especially  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  you 
will  to-day ;  so  do  not  waste  any  time  in  discussion.  You 
have  had  a  long  night  journey;  you  are  going  upstairs 
to  a  very  sad  sight  indeed,  a  strain  on  the  nerves  and 
sensibilities.  You  have  come  through  a  trying  interview 
with  me,  and  you  are  praising  Heaven  it  is  over.  But 
you  will  praise  Heaven  with  more  fervency  when  you 
have  drunk  the  sherry.  Also  you  have  been  standing 
during  twenty-three  minutes  and  a  half.  I  always  stand 
to  speak  myself,  and  I  prefer  folk  should  stand  to  listen. 
I  can  never  talk  to  people  while  they  loll  around.  But 
you  will  walk  upstairs  all  the  more  steadily,  Nurse 
Rosemary  Gray,  if  you  sit  down  now  for  five  minutes  at 
this  table." 

Jane  obeyed,  touched  and  humbled.  So,  after  all, 
it  was  a  kind,  comprehending  heart  under  that  old 
sealskin  waistcoat;  and  a  shrewd  understanding  of 
men  and  matters,  in  spite  of  the  erratic,  somewhat 
objectionable  exterior.  While  she  drank  the  wine  and 
finished  the  biscuits,  he  found  busy  occupation  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  polishing  the  window  with  his 
silk  pocket-handkerchief ;  making  a  queer  humming  noise 
all  the  time,  like  a  bee  buzzing  up  the  pane.  He  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  her  presence;  but,  just  as  she  put 
down  the  empty  glass,  he  turned  and,  walking  straight 
across  the  room,  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 

"Now,  Nurse,"  he  said,  "follow  me  upstairs,  and, 
just  at  first,  speak  as  little  as  possible.  Remember, 
every  fresh  voice  intruding  into  the  still  depths  of  that 
utter  blackness,  causes  an  agony  of  bewilderment  and 
disquietude  to  the  patient.  Speak  little  and  speak  low, 
and  may  God  Almighty  give  you  tact  and  wisdom." 


The  Napoleon  of  the  Moors         189 

There  was  a  dignity  of  conscious  knowledge  and  power 
in  the  small  quaint  figure  which  preceded  Jane  up  the 
staircase.  As  she  followed,  she  became  aware  that  her 
spirit  leaned  on  his  and  felt  sustained  and  strengthened. 
The  unexpected  conclusion  of  his  sentence,  old-fashioned 
in  its  wording,  yet  almost  a  prayer,  gave  her  fresh  cour- 
age. "May  God  Almighty  give  you  tact  and  wisdom," 
he  had  said,  little  guessing  how  greatly  she  needed  them. 
And  now  another  voice,  echoing  through  memory's 
arches  to  organ-music,  took  up  the  strain:  "Where  Thou 
art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come."  And  with  firm  though 
noiseless  step,  Jane  followed  Dr.  Mackenzie  into  the 
room  where  Garth  was  lying,  helpless,  sightless,  and 
disfigured. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    VOICE   IN   THE   DARKNESS 

JUST  the  dark  head  upon  the  pillow.     That  was  all 
Jane  saw  at  first,  and  she  saw  it  in  sunshine. 

Somehow  she  had  always  pictured  a  darkened  room, 
forgetting  that  to  him  darkness  and  light  were  both 
alike,  and  that  there  was  no  need  to  keep  out  the  sun- 
light, with  its  healing,  purifying,  invigorating  powers. 

He  had  requested  to  have  his  bed  moved  into  a 
corner — the  corner  farthest  from  door,  fireplace,  and 
windows — with  its  left  side  against  the  wall,  so  that  he 
could  feel  the  blank  wall  with  his  hand  and,  turning  close 
to  it,  know  himself  shut  away  from  all  possible  prying  of 
unseen  eyes.  This  was  how  he  now  lay,  and  he  did  not 
turn  as  they  entered. 

Just  the  dear  dark  head  upon  the  pillow.  It  was  all 
Jane  saw  at  first.  Then  his  right  arm  in  the  sleeve  of  a 
blue  silk  sleeping-suit,  stretched  slightly  behind  him 
as  he  lay  on  his  left  side,  the  thin  white  hand  limp  and 
helpless  on  the  coverlet. 

Jane  put  her  hands  behind  her.  The  impulse  was 
so  strong  to  fall  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  take  that 
poor  hand  in  both  her  strong  ones,  and  cover  it  with 
kisses.  Ah  surely,  surely  then,  the  dark  head  would 
turn  to  her,  and  instead  of  seeking  refuge  in  the  hard, 
blank  wall,  he  would  hide  that  sightless  face  in  the 
boundless  tenderness  of  her  arms.  But  Deryck's  warn- 
ing voice  sounded,  grave  and  persistent:  "If  you  value 
your  own  eventual  happiness  and  his —  "  So  Jane  put  her 
hands  behind  her  back. 

190 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  191 

Dr.  Mackenzie  advanced  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and 
laid  his  hand  upon  Garth's  shoulder.  Then,  with  an 
incredible  softening  of  his  rather  strident  voice,  he 
spoke  so  slowly  and  quietly,  that  Jane  could  hardly 
believe  this  to  be  the  man  who  had  jerked  out  questions, 
comments,  and  orders  to  her,  during  the  last  half -hour. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Dalmain.  Simpson  tells  me 
it  has  been  an  excellent  night,  the  best  you  have  yet 
had.  Now  that  is  good.  No  doubt  you  were  relieved 
to  be  rid  of  Johnson,  capable  though  he  was,  and  to 
be  back  in  the  hands  of  your  own  man  again.  These 
trained  attendants  are  never  content  with  doing  enough ; 
they  always  want  to  do  just  a  little  more,  and  that 
little  more  is  a  weariness  to  the  patient. — Now  I  have 
brought  you  to-day  one  who  is  prepared  to  do  all  you 
need,  and  yet  who,  I  feel  sure,  will  never  annoy  you  by 
attempting  more  than  you  desire.  Sir  Deryck  Brand's 
prescription,  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray,  is  here;  and  I 
believe  she  is  prepared  to  be  companion,  secretary, 
reader,  anything  you  want,  in  fact  a  new  pair  of  eyes  for 
you,  Mr.  Dalmain,  with  a  clever  brain  behind  them,  and 
a  kind,  sympathetic,  womanly  heart  directing  and  con- 
trolling that  brain.  Nurse  Gray  arrived  this  morning, 
Mr.  Dalmain." 

No  response  from  the  bed.  But  Garth's  hand  groped 
for  the  wall;  touched  it,  then  dropped  listlessly  back. 

Jane  could  not  realise  that  she  was  "Nurse  Gray." 
She  only  longed  that  her  poor  boy  need  not  be  bothered 
with  the  woman!  It  all  seemed,  at  this  moment,  a  thing 
apart  from  herself  and  him. 

Dr.  Mackenzie  spoke  again.  "Nurse  Rosemary  Gray 
is  in  the  room,  Mr.  Dalmain. " 

Then  Garth's  instinctive  chivalry  struggled  up  through 
the  blackness.    He  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  his  right 


192  The  Rosary- 

hand  made  a  little  courteous  sign  of  greeting,  and  he  said 
5m  a  low,  distinct  voice:  "How  do  you  do?  I  am  sure  it 
Is  most  kind  of  you  to  come  so  far.  I  hope  you  had  an 
easy  journey." 

Jane's  lips  moved,  but  no  sound  would  pass  them. 

Dr.  Rob  made  answer  quickly,  without  looking  at 
her:  "Miss  Gray  had  a  very  good  journey,  and  looks 
as  fresh  this  morning  as  if  she  had  spent  the  night  in 
bed.    I  can  see  she  is  a  cold-water  young  lady. " 

"I  hope  my  housekeeper  will  make  her  comfortable. 
Please  give  orders, "  said  the  tired  voice ;  and  Garth  turned 
even  closer  to  the  wall,  as  if  to  end  the  conversation. 

Dr.  Rob  attacked  his  moustache,  and  stood  looking 
down  at  the  blue  silk  shoulder  for  a  minute,  silently. 

Then  he  turned  and  spoke  to  Jane.  ' '  Come  over  to  the 
window,  Nurse  Gray.  I  want  to  show  you  a  special  chair 
we  have  obtained  for  Mr.  Dalmain,  in  which  he  will  be 
most  comfortable  as  soon  as  he  feels  inclined  to  sit  up. 
You  see?  Here  is  an  adjustable  support  for  the  head,  if 
necessary;  and  these  various  trays  and  stands  and  mov- 
able tables  can  be  swung  round  into  any  position  by  a 
touch.  I  consider  it  excellent,  and  Sir  Deryck  approved 
it.    Have  you  seen  one  of  this  kind  before,  Nurse  Gray  ? ' ' 

"  We  had  one  at  the  hospital,  but  not  quite  so  complete 
as  this,  "  said  Jane. 

In  the  stillness  of  that  sunlit  chamber,  the  voice 
from  the  bed  broke  upon  them  with  startling  sudden- 
ness; and  in  it  was  the  cry  of  one  lost  in  an  abyss  of 
darkness,  but  appealing  to  them  with  a  frantic  demand 
for  instant  enlightenment. 

"  Who  is  in  the  room?"  cried  Garth  Dalmain. 

His  face  was  still  turned  to  the  wall;  but  he  had 
raised  himself  on  his  left  elbow,  in  an  attitude  which 
betokened  intent  listening. 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  193 

Dr.  Mackenzie  answered.  "No  one  is  in  the  room, 
Mr.  Dalmain,  but  myself  and  Nurse  Gray." 

"There  is  some  one  else  in  the  room!"  said  Garth  vio- 
lently.    "  How  dare  you  lie  to  me !    Who  was  speaking?" 

Then  Jane  came  quickly  to  the  side  of  the  bed.  Her 
hands  were  trembling,  but  her  voice  was  perfectly 
under  control. 

"It  was  I  who  spoke,  sir,"  she  said;  "Nurse  Rose- 
mary Gray.  And  I  feel  sure  I  know  why  my  voice 
startled  you.  Dr.  Brand  warned  me  it  might  do  so. 
He  said  I  must  not  be  surprised  if  you  detected  a  re- 
markable similarity  between  my  voice  and  that  of 
a  mutual  friend  of  yours  and  his.  He  said  he  had 
often  noticed  it." 

Garth,  in  his  blindness,  remained  quite  still;  listening 
and  considering.  At  length  he  asked  slowly:  "Did 
he  say  whose  voice?" 

"Yes,  for  I  asked  him.  He  said  it  was  Miss 
Champion's." 

Garth's  head  dropped  back  upon  the  pillow.  Then 
without  turning  he  said  in  a  tone  which  Jane  knew 
meant  a  smile  on  that  dear  hidden  face:  "You  must 
forgive  me,  Miss  Gray,  for  being  so  startled  and  so 
stupidly,  unpardonably  agitated.  But,  you  know,  being 
blind  is  still  such  a  new  experience,  and  every  fresh 
voice  which  breaks  through  the  black  curtain  of  perpetual 
night,  means  so  infinitely  more  than  the  speaker  realises, 
The  resemblance  in  your  voice  to  that  of  the  lady  Sir 
Deryck  mentioned  is  so  remarkable  that,  although  I 
know  her  to  be  at  this  moment  in  Egypt,  I  could  scarcely 
believe  she  was  not  in  the  room.  And  yet  the  most 
unlikely  thing  in  the  world  would  be  that  she  should  have 
been  in  this  room.  So  I  owe  you  and  Dr.  Mackenzie 
most  humble  apologies  for  my  agitation  and  unbelief/' 
13 


194  The  Rosary 

He  stretched  out  his  right  hand,  palm  upwards,  towards 
Jane. 

Jane  clasped  her  shaking  hands  behind  her. 

"Now,  Nurse,  if  you  please,"  broke  in  Dr.  Macken- 
zie's rasping  voice  from  the  window,  "I  have  a  few 
more  details  to  explain  to  you  over  here. " 

They  talked  together  for  a  while  without  interruption, 
until  Dr.  Rob  remarked:  "I  suppose  I  will  have  to  be 
going." 

Then  Garth  said:  "I  wish  to  speak  to  you  alone, 
doctor,  for  a  few  minutes. " 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  downstairs,  Dr.  Mackenzie,  "  said 
Jane,  and  was  moving  towards  the  door,  when  an  imperi- 
ous gesture  from  Dr.  Rob  stopped  her,  and  she  turned  sil- 
ently to  the  fireplace.  She  could  not  see  any  need  now  for 
this  subterfuge,  and  it  annoyed  her.  But  the  freckled  little 
Napoleon  of  the  moors  was  not  a  man  to  be  lightly  dis- 
obeyed. He  walked  to  the  door,  opened  and  closed  it ;  then 
returned  to  the  bedside,  drew  up  a  chair,  and  sat  down. 

"Now,  Mr.  Dalmain,  "  he  said. 

Garth  sat  up  and  turned  towards  him  eagerly. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Jane  saw  his  face. 

"  Doctor,  "  he  said,  "tell  me  about  this  nurse.  Describe 
her  to  me." 

The  tension  in  tone  and  attitude  was  extreme.  His 
hands  were  clasped  in  front  of  him,  as  if  imploring 
sight  through  the  eyes  of  another.  His  thin  white  face, 
worn  with  suffering,  looked  so  eager  and  yet  so  blank. 

"Describe  her  to  me,  doctor,"  he  said;  "this  Nurse 
Rosemary  Gray,  as  you  call  her. " 

"But  it  is  not  a  pet  name  of  mine,  my  dear  sir,"  said 
Dr.  Rob  deliberately.  "It  is  the  young  lady's  own 
name,  and  a  pretty  one,  too.  'Rosemary  for  remem- 
brance.'   Is  not  that  Shakespeare?" 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  195 

"Describe  her  to  me,"  insisted  Garth,  for  the  third 
time. 

Dr.  Mackenzie  glanced  at  Jane.  But  she  had  turned 
her  back,  to  hide  the  tears  which  were  streaming  down 
her  cheeks.  Oh,  Garth!  Oh,  beautiful  Garth  of  the 
shining  eyes! 

Dr.  Rob  drew  Deryck's  letter  from  his  pocket  and 
studied  it. 

"Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "she  is  a  pretty,  dainty  little 
thing;  just  the  sort  of  elegant  young  woman  you  would 
like  to  have  about  you,  could  you  see  her." 

"Dark  or  fair?"  asked  Garth. 

The  doctor  glanced  at  what  he  could  see  of  Jane's  cheek, 
and  at  the  brown  hands  holding  on  to  the  mantelpiece. 

"Fair,"  said  Dr.  Rob,  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

Jane  started  and  glanced  round.  Why  should  this 
little  man  be  lying  on  his  own  account? 

"Hair?"  queried  the  strained  voice  from  the  bed. 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Rob  deliberately,  "it  is  mostly 
tucked  away  under  a  modest  little  cap;  but,  were  it 
not  for  that  wise  restraint,  I  should  say  it  might  be 
that  kind  of  fluffy,  fly-away  floss-silk,  which  puts  the 
finishing  touch  to  a  dainty,  pretty  woman." 

Garth  lay  back,  panting,  and  pressed  his  hands  over 
his  sightless  face. 

"Doctor,"  he  said,  "I  know  I  have  given  you  heaps 
of  trouble,  and  to-day  you  must  think  me  a  fool.  But 
if  you  do  not  wish  me  to  go  mad  in  my  blindness,  send 
that  girl  away.     Do  not  let  her  enter  my  room  again. " 

"Now,  Mr.  Dalmain, "  said  Dr.  Mackenzie  patiently, 
"let  us  consider  this  thing.  We  may  take  it  you  have 
nothing  against  this  young  lady  excepting  a  chance 
resemblance  in  her  voice  to  that  of  a  friend  of  yours  now 
far  away.     Was  not  this  other  lady  a  pleasant  person?" 


196  The  Rosary 

Garth  laughed  suddenly,  bitterly ;  a  laugh  like  a  hard 
sob.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "she  was  quite  a  pleasant 
person. " 

"  'Rosemary  for  remembrance,'  "  quoted  Dr.  Rob. 
"Then  why  should  not  Nurse  Rosemary  call  up  a 
pleasant  remembrance?  Also  it  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
kind,  sweet,  womanly  voice,  which  is  something  to  be 
thankful  for  nowadays,  when  so  many  women  talk 
fit  to  scare  the  crows;  cackle,  cackle,  cackle — like  stones 
rattling  in  a  tin  canister.  " 

"But  can't  you  understand,  doctor,"  said  Garth 
wearily,  "that  it  is  just  the  remembrance  and  the 
resemblance  which,  in  my  blindness,  I  cannot  bear? 
I  have  nothing  against  her  voice,  Heaven  knows!  But 
I  tell  you,  when  I  heard  it  first  I  thought  it  was — it  was 
she — the  other — come  to  me — here — and — "  Garth's 
voice  ceased  suddenly. 

"The  pleasant  lady?"  suggested  Dr.  Rob.  "I  see. 
Well  now,  Mr.  Dalmain,  Sir  Deryck  said  the  best  thing 
that  could  happen  would  be  if  you  came  to  wish  for 
visitors.  It  appears  you  have  many  friends  ready  and 
anxious  to  come  any  distance  in  order  to  bring  you 
help  or  cheer.  Why  not  let  me  send  for  this  pleasant 
lady?  I  make  no  doubt  she  would  come.  Then  when 
she  herself  had  sat  beside  you,  and  talked  with  you,  the 
nurse's  voice  would  trouble  you  no  longer.  " 

Garth  sat  up  again,  his  face  wild  with  protest.  Jane 
turned  on  the  hearth-rug,  and  stood  watching  it. 

"No,  doctor,"  he  said.  "Oh,  my  God,  no!  In  the 
whole  world,  she  is  the  last  person  I  would  have  enter 
this  room!" 

Dr.  Mackenzie  bent  forward  to  examine  minutely  a 
microscopic  darn  in  the  sheet.  "And  why?"  he  asked 
very  low. 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  197 

"Because,"  said  Garth,  "that  pleasant  lady,  as  you 
rightly  call  her,  has  a  noble,  generous  heart,  and  it 
might  overflow  with  pity  for  my  blindness;  and  pity 
from  her  I  could  not  accept.  It  would  be  the  last  straw 
upon  my  heavy  cross.  I  can  bear  the  cross,  doctor;  I 
hope  in  time  to  carry  it  manfully,  until  God  bids  me  lay 
it  down.  But  that  last  straw — her  pity — would  break 
me.    I  should  fall  in  the  dark,  to  rise  no  more. " 

"I  see,"  said  Dr.  Rob  gently.  "Poor  laddie!  The 
pieasant  lady  must  not  come. " 

He  waited  silently  a  few  minutes,  then  pushed  back 
his  chair  and  stood  up. 

"Meanwhile,"  he  said,  "I  must  rely  on  you,  Mr. 
Dalmain,  to  be  agreeable  to  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray, 
and  not  to  make  her  task  too  difficult.  I  dare  not 
send  her  back.  She  is  Dr.  Brand's  choice.  Besides — ■ 
think  of  the  cruel  blow  to  her  in  her  profession.  Think 
of  it,  man! — sent  off  at  a  moment's  notice,  after  spending 
five  minutes  in  her  patient's  room,  because,  forsooth,  her 
voice  maddened  him !  Poor  child !  What  a  statement  to 
enter  on  her  report!  See  her  appear  before  the  matron 
with  it!  Can't  you  be  generous  and  unselfish  enough  to 
face  whatever  trial  there  may  be  for  you  in  this  bit  of  a 
coincidence?" 

Garth  hesitated.  "Dr.  Mackenzie,"  he  said  at  last, 
"will  you  swear  to  me  that  your  description  of  this 
young  lady  was  accurate  in  every  detail?" 

"  'Swear  not  at  all,'  "  quoted  Dr.  Rob  unctuously, 
"I  had  a  pious  mother,  laddie.  Besides  I  can  do  better 
than  that.  I  will  let  you  into  a  secret.  I  was  reading 
from  Sir  Deryck's  letter.  I  am  no  authority  on  women 
myself,  having  always  considered  dogs  and  horses  less 
ensnaring  and  more  companionable  creatures.  So  I 
would  not  trust  my  own  eyes,  but  preferred  to  give  you 


198  The  Rosary 

Sir  Deryck's  description.  You  will  allow  him  to  be  a 
fine  judge  of  women.    You  have  seen  Lady  Brand?" 

"Seen  her?  Yes,"  said  Garth  eagerly,  a  slight  flush 
tinting  his  thin  cheeks,  "and  more  than  that,  I've 
painted  her.  Ah,  such  a  picture! — standing  at  a  table, 
the  sunlight  in  her  hair,  arranging  golden  daffodils  in 
an  old  Venetian  vase.  Did  you  see  it,  doctor,  in  the 
New  Gallery,  two  years  ago?" 

"No,"  said  Dr.  Rob.  "I  am  not  finding  myself 
in  galleries,  new  or  old.  But" — he  turned  a  swift 
look  of  inquiry  on  Jane,  who  nodded — "  Nurse  Gray  was 
telling  me  she  had  seen  it. " 

"Really?"  said  Garth,  interested.  "Somehow  one 
does  not  connect  nurses  with  picture  galleries. " 

" I  don't  know  why  not,  "  said  Dr.  Rob.  "They  must 
go  somewhere  for  their  outings.  They  can't  be  everlast- 
ingly nosing  shop  windows  in  all  weathers;  so  why  not 
go  in  and  have  a  look  at  your  pictures?  Besides,  Miss 
Rosemary  is  a  young  lady  of  parts.  Sir  Deryck  assures 
me  she  is  a  gentlewoman  by  birth,  well-read  and  intelli- 
gent.— Now,  laddie,  what  is  it  to  be?" 

Garth  considered  silently. 

Jane  turned  away  and  gripped  the  mantelpiece.  So 
much  hung  in  the  balance  during  that  quiet  minute. 

At  length  Garth  spoke,  slowly,  hesitatingly.  "If 
only  I  could  quite  disassociate  the  voice  from  the — 
from  that  ether  personality.  If  I  could  be  quite  sure 
that,  though  her  voice  is  so  extraordinarily  like,  she 
herself  is  not — "  he  paused,  and  Jane's  heart  stood  still. 
Was  a  description  of  herself  coming? — "is  not  at  all  like 
the  face  and  figure  which  stand  clear  in  my  remembrance 
as  associated  with  that  voice. " 

"Well,"  said  Dr.  Rob,  "I'm  thinking  we  can  manage 
that  for  you.     These  nurses  know  their  patients  must 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  199 

be  humoured.  We  will  call  the  young  lady  back,  and 
she  shall  kneel  down  beside  your  bed — Bless  you!  She 
won't  mind,  with  me  to  play  old  Gooseberry ! — and  you 
shall  pass  your  hands  over  her  face  and  hair,  and  round 
her  little  waist,  and  assure  yourself,  by  touch,  what  an 
elegant,  dainty  little  person  it  is,  in  a  blue  frock  and 
white  apron." 

Garth  burst  out  laughing,  and  his  voice  had  a  tone 
it  had  not  yet  held.  "Of  all  the  preposterous  sug- 
gestions!" he  said.  "Good  heavens!  What  an  ass 
I  must  have  been  making  of  myself!  And  I  begin  to 
think  I  have  exaggerated  the  resemblance.  In  a  day 
or  two,  I  shall  cease  to  notice  it.  And,  look  here,  doctor, 
if  she  really  was  interested  in  that  portrait —  Here,  I 
say — where  are  you  going?" 

"All  right,  sir, "  said  Dr.  Rob.  " I  was  merely  moving 
a  chair  over  to  the  fireside,  and  taking  the  liberty  of 
pouring  out  a  glass  of  water.  Really  you  are  becoming 
abnormally  quick  of  hearing.  Now  I  am  all  attention. 
What  about  the  portrait?" 

"I  was  only  going  to  say,  if  she — the  nurse,  you 
know — is  really  interested  in  my  portrait  of  Lady 
Brand,  there  are  studies  of  it  up  in  the  studio,  which 
she  might  care  to  see.  If  she  brought  them  here  and 
described  them  to  me  I  could  explain —  But,  I  say, 
doctor.  I  can't  have  dainty  young  ladies  in  and  out 
of  my  room  while  I'm  in  bed.  Why  shouldn't  I  get  up 
and  try  that  chair  of  yours?  Send  Simpson  along;  and 
tell  him  to  look  out  my  brown  lounge-suit  and  orange  tie. 
Good  heavens!  what  a  blessing  to  have  the  memory  of 
colours  and  of  how  they  blend !  Think  of  the  fellows  who 
are  born  blind.  And  please  ask  Miss  Gray  to  go  out  in 
the  pine  wood,  or  on  the  moor,  or  use  the  motor,  or  rest, 
or  do  anything  she  likes.    Tell  her  to  make  herself  quite 


200  The  Rosary 

at  home;  but  on  no  account  to  come  up  here  until 
Simpson  reports  me  ready. " 

"You  may  rely  on  Nurse  Gray  to  be  most  discreet," 
said  Dr.  Rob,  whose  voice  had  suddenly  become  very 
husky.  "And  as  for  getting  up,  laddie,  don't  go  too 
fast.  You  will  not  find  your  strength  equal  to  much. 
But  I  am  bound  to  tell  you  there  is  nothing  to  keep 
you  in  bed  if  you  feel  like  rising. " 

"Good-bye,  doctor,"  said  Garth,  groping  for  his 
hand;  "and  I  am  sorry  I  shall  never  be  able  to  offer 
to  paint  Mrs.  Mackenzie!" 

"You'd  have  to  paint  her  with  a  shaggy  head,  four 
paws,  and  the  softest  amber  eyes  in  the  world,"  said 
Dr.  Rob  tenderly;  "and,  looking  out  from  those  eyes, 
the  most  faithful,  loving  dog-heart  in  creation.  In  all 
the  years  we've  kept  house  together  she  has  never  failed 
to  meet  me  with  a  welcome,  never  contradicted  me  or 
wanted  the  last  word,  and  never  worried  me  for  so  much 
as  the  price  of  a  bonnet.  There's  a  woman  for  you!— 
Well,  good-bye,  lad,  and  God  Almighty  bless  you.  And 
be  careful  how  you  go.  Do  not  be  surprised  if  I  look  in 
again  on  my  way  back  from  my  rounds  to  see  how  you 
like  that  chair." 

Dr.  Mackenzie  held  open  the  door.  Jane  passed 
noiselessly  out  before  him.  He  followed,  signing  to 
her  to  precede  him  down  the  stairs. 

In  the  library,  Jane  turned  and  faced  him.  He 
put  her  quietly  into  a  chair  and  stood  before  her.  The 
bright  blue  eyes  were  moist,  beneath  the  shaggy  brows. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "I  feel  myself  somewhat  of  a 
blundering  old  fool.  You  must  forgive  me.  I  never 
contemplated  putting  you  through  such  an  ordeal.  I 
perfectly  understand  that,  while  he  hesitated,  you 
must  have  felt  your  whole  career  at  stake.     I  see  you 


The  Voice  in  the  Darkness  201 

have  been  weeping;  but  you  must  not  take  it  too  much 
to  heart  that  our  patient  made  so  much  of  your  voice 
resembling  this  Miss  Champion's.  He  will  forget  all 
about  it  in  a  day  or  two,  and  you  will  be  worth  more 
to  him  than  a  dozen  Miss  Champions.  See  what  good 
you  have  done  him  already.  Here  he  is  wanting  to 
get  up  and  explain  his  pictures  to  you.  Never  you 
fear.  You  will  soon  win  your  way,  and  I  shall  be  able 
to  report  to  Sir  Deryck  what  a  fine  success  you  have 
made  of  the  case.  Now  I  must  see  the  valet  and  give 
him  very  full  instructions.  And  I  recommend  you  to 
go  for  a  blow  on  the  moor  and  get  an  appetite  for  lunch. 
Only  put  on  something  warmer  than  that.  You  will 
have  no  sick-room  work  to  do ;  and  having  duly  impressed 
me  with  your  washableness  and  serviceableness,  you  may 
as  well  wear  something  comfortable  to  protect  you  from 
our  Highland  nip.  Have  you  warmer  clothing  with 
you?" 

"It  is  the  rule  of  our  guild  to  wear  uniform,"  said 
Jane;  "but  I  have  a  grey  merino. " 

"Ah,  I  see.  Well,  wear  the  grey  merino.  I  shall 
return  in  two  hours  to  observe  how  he  stands  that 
move.     Now,  don't  let  me  keep  you. " 

"Dr.  Mackenzie,"  said  Jane  quietly,  "may  I  ask  why 
you  described  me  as  fair;  and  my  very  straight,  heavy, 
plainly  coiled  hair,  as  fluffy,  fly-away  floss-silk?" 

Dr.  Rob  had  already  reached  the  bell,  but  at  her 
question  he  stayed  his  hand  and,  turning,  met  Jane's 
steadfast  eyes  with  the  shrewd  turquoise  gleam  of  his 
own. 

"Why  certainly  you  may  ask,  Nurse  Rosemary 
Gray,"  he  said,  "though  I  wonder  you  think  it  neces- 
sary to  do  so.  It  was  of  course  perfectly  evident  to 
me  that,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  Sir  Deryck  wished  to 


202  The  Rosary- 

paint  an  imaginary  portrait  of  you  to  the  patient, 
most  likely  representing  some  known  ideal  of  his.  As  the 
description  was  so  different  from  the  reality,  I  concluded 
that,  to  make  the  portrait  complete,  the  two  touches 
unfortunately  left  to  me  to  supply,  had  better  be  as 
unlike  what  I  saw  before  me  as  the  rest  of  the  picture. 
And  now,  if  you  will  be  good  enough — "  Dr.  Rob  rang 
the  bell  violently. 

"And  why  did  you  take  the  risk  of  suggesting  that 
he  should  feel  me?"  persisted  Jane. 

"Because  I  knew  he  was  a  gentleman,"  shouted 
Dr.  Rob  angrily.  "Oh,  come  in,  Simpson — come  in, 
my  good  fellow — and  shut  that  door!  And  God 
Almighty  be  praised  that  He  made  you  and  me  men, 
and  not  women!" 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Jane  watched  him  drive 
away,  thinking  to  herself:  "Deryck  was  right.  But 
what  a  queer  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  obtuseness, 
and  how  marvellously  it  worked  out  to  the  furtherance 
of  our  plans. " 

But  as  she  watched  the  dog-cart  start  off  at  a  smart 
trot  across  the  moor,  she  would  have  been  more  than 
a  little  surprised  could  she  have  overheard  Dr.  Rob's 
muttered  remarks  to  himself,  as  he  gathered  up  the 
reins  and  cheered  on  his  sturdy  cob.  He  had  a  habit 
of  talking  over  his  experiences,  half  aloud,  as  he  drove 
from  case  to  case;  the  two  sides  of  his  rather  complex 
nature  apparently  comparing  notes  with  each  other. 
And  the  present  conversation  opened  thus : 

"Now  what  has  brought  the  Honourable  Jane  up 
here?"  said  Dr.  Rob. 

"  Dashed  if  I  know,  "  said  Dr.  Mackenzie. 

"You  must  not  swear,  laddie,"  said  Dr.  Rob;  "you 
had  a  pious  mother. " 


CHAPTER  XX 

JANE   REPORTS    PROGRESS 

LETTER  from  the  Honourable  Jane  Champion  to 
Sir  Deryck  Brand. 

Castle  Gleneesh,  N.  B. 

My  dear  Deryck:  My  wires  and  post-cards  have 
not  told  you  much  beyond  the  fact  of  my  safe  arrival. 
Having  been  here  a  fortnight,  I  think  it  is  time  I  sent 
you  a  report.  Only  you  must  remember  that  I  am 
a  poor  scribe.  From  infancy  it  has  always  been  difficult 
to  me  to  write  anything  beyond  that  stock  commence- 
ment: " I  hope  you  are  quite  well;"  and  I  approach  the 
task  of  a  descriptive  letter  with  an  effort  which  is  colossal. 
And  yet  I  wish  I  might,  for  once,  borrow  the  pen  of  a 
ready  writer;  because  I  cannot  help  knowing  that  I  have 
been  passing  through  experiences  such  as  do  not  often 
fall  to  the  lot  of  a  woman. 

Nurse  Rosemary  Gray  is  getting  on  capitally.  She 
is  making  herself  indispensable  to  the  patient,  and  he 
turns  to  her  with  a  completeness  of  confidence  which 
causes  her  heart  to  swell  with  professional  pride. 

Poor  Jane  has  got  no  further  than  hearing,  from  his 
own  lips,  that  she  is  the  very  last  person  in  the  whole 
world  he  would  wish  should  come  near  him  in  his  blind- 
ness. When  she  was  suggested  as  a  possible  visitor,  he 
said:  "Oh,  my  God,  nol"  and  his  face  was  one  wild, 
horrified  protest.  So  Jane  is  getting  her  horsewhipping, 
Boy,  and — according  to  the  method  of  a  careful  and 
thoughtful  judge,  who  orders  thirty  lashes  of  the  "cat," 
in  three  applications  of  ten — so  is  Jane's  punishment  laid 

203 


204  The  Rosary 

on  at  intervals;  not  more  than  she  can  bear  at  a  time; 
but  enough  to  keep  her  heart  continually  sore,  and  her 
spirit  in  perpetual  dread.  And  you,  dear,  clever  doctor, 
are  proved  perfectly  right  in  your  diagnosis  of  the 
sentiment  of  the  case.  He  says  her  pity  would  be  the 
last  straw  on  his  already  heavy  cross ;  and  the  expression 
is  an  apt  one,  her  pity  for  him  being  indeed  a  thing  of 
straw.  The  only  pity  she  feels  is  pity  for  herself,  thus 
hopelessly  caught  in  the  meshes  of  her  own  mistake. 
But  how  to  make  him  realise  this,  is  the  puzzle. 

Do  you  remember  how  the  Israelites  were  shut  in, 
between  Migdol  and  the  sea?  I  knew  Migdol  meant 
"towers,"  but  I  never  understood  the  passage,  until 
I  stood  upon  that  narrow  wedge  of  desert,  with  the 
Red  Sea  in  front  and  on  the  left;  the  rocky  range  of 
Gebel  Attaka  on  the  right,  towering  up  against  the 
sky,  like  the  weird  shapes  of  an  impregnable  fortress; 
the  sole  outlet  or  inlet  behind,  being  the  route  they 
had  just  travelled  from  Egypt,  and  along  which  the 
chariots  and  horsemen  of  Pharaoh  were  then  thun- 
dering in  hot  pursuit.  Even  so,  Boy,  is  poor  Jane 
now  tramping  her  patch  of  desert,  which  narrows  daily 
to  the  measure  of  her  despair.  Migdol  is  his  certainty 
that  her  love  could  only  be  pity.  The  Red  Sea  is  the 
confession  into  which  she  must  inevitably  plunge,  to 
avoid  scaling  Migdol ;  in  the  chill  waters  of  which,  as  she 
drags  him  in  with  her,  his  love  is  bound  to  drown,  as 
waves  of  doubt  and  mistrust  sweep  over  its  head, — 
doubts  which  he  has  lost  the  power  of  removing;  mis- 
trust which  he  can  never  hope  to  prove  to  have  been 
false  and  mistaken.  And  behind  come  galloping  the 
hosts  of  Pharaoh;  chance,  speeding  on  the  wheels  of 
circumstance.  At  any  moment  some  accident  may 
compel  a  revelation;  and  instantly  he  will  be  scaling 


Jane  Reports  Progress  205 

rocky  Migdol,  with  torn  hands  and  bleeding  feet;  and 
she — poor  Jane — floundering  in  the  depths  of  the  Red 
Sea.  O  for  a  Moses,  with  divine  commission,  to  stretch 
out  the  rod  of  understanding  love,  making  a  safe  way 
through ;  so  that  together  they  might  reach  the  Promised 
Land!  Dear  wise  old  Boy,  dare  you  undertake  the  role 
of  Moses! 

But  here  am  I  writing  like  a  page  of  Baedeker,  and 
failing  to  report  on  actual  facts. 

As  you  may  suppose,  Jane  grows  haggard  and  thin 
in  spite  of  old  Margery's  porridge — which  is  "put  on" 
every  day  after  lunch,  for  the  next  morning's  break- 
fast, and  anybody  passing  "gives  it  a  stir."  Did  you 
know  that  was  the  right  way  to  make  porridge,  Deryck? 
I  always  thought  it  was  made  in  five  minutes,  as  wanted. 
Margery  says  that  must  be  the  English  stuff  which  pro- 
fanely goes  by  the  name.  (N.B.  Please  mark  the  self- 
control  with  which  I  repeat  Scotch  remarks,  without 
rushing  into  weird  spelling;  a  senseless  performance,  it 
seems  to  me.  For  if  you  know  already  how  old  Margery 
pronounces  "porridge,"  you  can  read  her  pronunciation 
into  the  sentence ;  and  if  you  do  not  know  it,  no  grotesque 
spelling  on  my  part  could  convey  to  your  mind  any 
but  a  caricatured  version  of  the  pretty  Scotch  accent 
with  which  Margery  says:  "Stir  the  porridge,  Nurse 
Gray."  In  fact,  I  am  agreeably  surprised  at  the  ease 
with  which  I  understand  the  natives,  and  the  pleasure 
I  derive  from  their  conversation;  for,  after  wrestling 
with  one  or  two  modern  novels  dealing  with  the  High- 
lands, I  had  expected  to  find  the  language  an  unknown 
tongue.  Instead  of  which,  lo !  and  behold,  old  Margery, 
Maggie  the  housemaid,  Macdonald  the  gardener,  and 
Macalister  the  game-keeper,  all  speak  a  rather  purer 
English  than  I  do;  far  more  carefully  pronounced,  and 


206  The  Rosary 

with  every  r  sounded  and  rolled.  Their  idioms  are  more 
characteristic  than  their  accent.  They  say  "whenever" 
for  "when,"  and  use  in  their  verbs  several  quaint 
variations  of  tense.) 

But  what  a  syntactical  digression!  Oh,  Boy,  the 
wound  at  my  heart  is  so  deep  and  so  sore  that  I  dread 
the  dressings,  even  by  your  delicate  touch.  Where 
was  I?  Ah,  the  porridge  gave  me  my  loophole  of 
escape.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Jane  grows  worn  and 
thin,  old  Margery's  porridge  notwithstanding;  but  Nurse 
Rosemary  Gray  is  flourishing,  and  remains  a  pretty, 
dainty  little  thing,  with  the  additional  charm  of  fluffy, 
fly-away  floss-silk,  for  hair, — Dr.  Rob's  own  unaided 
contribution  to  the  fascinating  picture.  By  the  way,  I 
was  quite  unprepared  to  find  him  such  a  character.  I 
learn  much  from  Dr.  Mackenzie,  and  I  love  Dr.  Rob, 
excepting  on  those  occasions  when  I  long  to  pick  him  up 
by  the  scruff  of  his  fawn  overcoat  and  drop  him  out  of  the 
window. 

On  the  point  of  Nurse  Rosemary's  personal  appear- 
ance, I  found  it  best  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  the 
household.  You  can  have  no  conception  how  often 
awkward  moments  arose;  as,  for  instance,  in  the  library, 
the  first  time  Garth  came  downstairs;  when  he  ordered 
Simpson  to  bring  the  steps  for  Miss  Gray,  and  Simpson 
opened  his  lips  to  remark  that  Nurse  Gray  could  reach 
to  the  top  shelf  on  her  own  tiptoes  with  the  greatest  ease, 
he  having  just  seen  her  do  it.  Mercifully,  the  perfect 
training  of  an  English  man-servant  saved  the  situation, 
and  he  merely  said:  "Yessir;  certainly  sir,"  and  looked 
upon  me,  standing  silently  by,  as  a  person  who  evidently 
delighted  in  giving  unnecessary  trouble.  Had  it  been 
dear  old  Margery  with  her  Scotch  tongue,  which  starts 
slowly,  but  gathers  momentum  as  it  rolls,  and  can  never 


Jane  Reports  Progress  207 

be  arrested  until  the  full  flood  of  her  thought  has  been 
poured  forth,  I  should  have  been  constrained  to  pick 
her  up  bodily  in  my  dainty  arms  and  carry  her  out. 

So  I  sent  for  Simpson  and  Margery  to  the  dining- 
room  that  evening,  when  the  master  was  safely  out 
of  ear-shot,  and  told  them  that,  for  reasons  which  I 
could  not  fully  explain,  a  very  incorrect  description 
of  my  appearance  had  been  given  him.  He  thought 
me  small  and  slim;  fair  and  very  pretty;  and  it  was 
most  important,  in  order  to  avoid  long  explanations 
and  mental  confusion  for  him,  that  he  should  not  at 
present  be  undeceived.  Simpson's  expression  of  polite 
attention  did  not  vary,  and  his  only  comment  was: 
"Certainly,  miss.  Quite  so."  But  across  old  Margery's 
countenance,  while  I  was  speaking,  passed  many  shades 
of  opinion,  which,  fortunately,  by  the  time  I  had  finished, 
crystallized  into  an  approving  smile  of  acquiescence. 
She  even  added  her  own  commentary:  "And  a  very 
good  thing,  too,  I  am  thinking.  For  Master  Garth,  poor 
laddie,  was  always  so  set  upon  having  beauty  about  him. 
1  Master  Garthie, '  I  would  say  to  him,  when  he  had 
friends  coming,  and  all  his  ideas  in  talking  over  the 
dinner  concerned  the  cleaning  up  of  the  old  silver,  and 
putting  out  of  Valentine  glass  and  Worstered  china; 
'  Master  Garthie, '  I  would  say,  feeling  the  occasion 
called  for  the  apt  quoting  of  Scripture,  '  it  appears  to  me 
your  attention  is  given  entirely  to  the  outside  of  the  cup 
and  platter,  and  you  care  nothing  for  all  the  good  things 
that  lie  within.'  So  it  is  just  as  well  to  keep  him  de- 
ceived, Miss  Gray. "  And  then,  as  Simpson  coughed 
tactfully  behind  his  hand,  and  nudged  her  very  obviously 
with  his  elbow,  she  added,  as  a  sympathetic  after- 
thought: "For,  though  a  homely  face  may  indeed  be 
redeemed  by  its  kindly  expression,  you  cannot  very  well 


208  The  Rosary 

explain  expression  to  the  blind."     So  you  see,  Deryck 
this  shrewd  old  body,  who  has  known  Garth  from  boy- 
hood, would  have  entirely  agreed  with  the  decision  of 
three  years  ago. 

Well,  to  continue  my  report.  The  voice  gave  us 
some  trouble,  as  you  foresaw,  and  the  whole  plan  hung 
in  the  balance  during  a  few  awful  moments ;  for,  though 
he  easily  accepted  the  explanation  we  had  planned,  he 
sent  me  out,  and  told  Dr.  Mackenzie  my  voice  in  his 
room  would  madden  him.  Dr.  Rob  was  equal  to  the 
occasion,  and  won  the  day ;  and  Garth,  having  once  given 
in,  never  mentioned  the  matter  again.  Only,  sometimes 
I  see  him  listening  and  remembering. 

But  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray  has  beautiful  hours  when 
poor  anxious,  yearning  Jane  is  shut  out.  For  her  patient 
turns  to  her,  and  depends  on  her,  and  talks  to  her,  and 
tries  to  reach  her  mind,  and  shows  her  his,  and  is  a 
wonderful  person  to  live  with  and  know.  Jane,  marching 
about  in  the  cold,  outside,  and  hearing  them  talk, 
realises  how  little  she  understood  the  beautiful  gift  which 
was  laid  at  her  feet ;  how  little  she  had  grasped  the  nature 
and  mind  of  the  man  whom  she  dismissed  as  "a  mere 
boy. "  Nurse  Rosemary,  sitting  beside  him  during  long 
sweet  hours  of  companionship,  is  learning  it;  and  Jane, 
ramping  up  and  down  her  narrowing  strip  of  desert, 
tastes  the  sirocco  of  despair. 

And  now  I  come  to  the  point  of  my  letter,  and, 
though  I  am  a  woman,  I  will  not  put  it  in  a  postscript. 

Deryck,  can  you  come  up  soon,  to  pay  him  a  visit, 
and  to  talk  to  me?  I  don't  think  I  can  bear  it,  un- 
aided, much  longer;  and  he  would  so  enjoy  having  you, 
and  showing  you  how  he  had  got  on,  and  all  the  things 
he  had  already  learned  to  do.  Also  you  might  put  in 
a  word  for  Jane;  or  at  all  events,  get  at  his  mind  on 


Jane  Reports  Progress  209 

the  subject.  Oh,  Boy,  if  you  could  spare  forty-eight 
hours!  And  a  breath  of  the  moors  would  be  good  for 
you.  Also  I  have  a  little  private  plan,  which  depends 
largely  for  its  fulfilment  on  your  coming.  Oh,  Boy — 
come! 

Yours,  needing  you, 

Jeanette. 

From  Sir  Deryck  Brand  to  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray, 
Castle  Gleneesh,  N.  B. 

Wimpole  Street. 

My  dear  Jeanette:  Certainly  I  will  come.  I  will 
leave  Euston  on  Friday  evening.  I  can  spend  the 
whole  of  Saturday  and  most  of  Sunday  at  Gleneesh, 
but  must  be  home  in  time  for  Monday's  work. 

I  will  do  my  best,  only,  alas!  I  am  not  Moses,  and 
do  not  possess  his  wonder-working  rod.  Moreover, 
latest  investigations  have  proved  that  the  Israelites 
could  not  have  crossed  at  the  place  you  mention,  but 
further  north  at  the  Bitter  Lakes;  a  mere  matter  of 
detail,  in  no  way  affecting  the  extreme  appositeness 
of  your  illustration,  rather,  adding  to  it;  for  I  fear 
there  are  bitter  waters  ahead  of  you,  my  poor  girl. 

Still  I  am  hopeful,  nay,  more  than  hopeful, — confi- 
dent. Often  of  late,  in  connection  with  you,  I  have 
thought  of  the  promise  about  all  things  working  to- 
gether for  good.  Any  one  can  make  good  things  work 
together  for  good;  but  only  the  Heavenly  Father  can 
bring  good  out  of  evil;  and,  taking  all  our  mistakes  and 
failings  and  foolishnesses,  cause  them  to  work  out  to 
our  most  perfect  well-being.  The  more  intricate  and 
involved  this  problem  of  human  existence  becomes, 
14 


210  The  Rosary 

the  greater  the  need  to  take  as  our  own  clear  rule  of 
life:  "Trust  in  the  Lord  with  all  thine  heart;  and  lean 
not  unto  thine  own  understanding.  In  all  thy  ways 
acknowledge  Him,  and  He  shall  direct  thy  paths." 
Ancient  marching  orders,  and  simple;  but  true,  and 
therefore  eternal. 

I  am  glad  Nurse  Rosemary  is  proving  so  efficient, 
but  I  hope  we  may  not  have  to  face  yet  another  com- 
plication in  our  problem.  Suppose  our  patient  falls 
in  love  with  dainty  little  Nurse  Rosemary,  where  will 
Jane  be  then?  I  fear  the  desert  would  have  to  open 
its  mouth  and  swallow  her  up.  We  must  avert  such 
a  catastrophe.  Could  not  Rosemary  be  induced  to 
drop  an  occasional  h,  or  to  confess  herself  as  rather 
"gone"  on  Simpson? 

Oh,  my  poor  old  girl!  I  could  not  jest  thus,  were  I 
not  coming  shortly  to  your  aid. 

How  maddening  it  is!  And  you  so  priceless!  But 
most  men  are  either  fools  or  blind,  and  one  is  both. 
Trust  me  to  prove  it  to  him, — to  my  own  satisfaction 
and  his, — if  I  get  the  chance. 

Yours  always  devotedly, 

Deryck  Brand. 

From  Sir  Deryck  Brand  to  Dr.  Robert  Mackenzie. 

Dear  Mackenzie  :  Do  you  consider  it  to  be  advisable 
that  I  should  shortly  pay  a  visit  to  our  patient  at 
Gleneesh  and  give  an  opinion  on  his  progress? 

I  find  I  can  make  it  possible  to  come  north  this 
week-end. 

I  hope  you  are  satisfied  with  the  nurse  I  sent  up. 
Yours  very  faithfully, 

Deryck  Brand. 


Jane  Reports  Progress  211 

From  Dr.  Robert  Mackenzie  to  Sir  Deryck  Brand. 

Dear  Sir  Deryck:  Every  possible  need  of  the 
patient's  is  being  met  by  the  capable  lady  you  sent  to 
be  his  nurse.  I  am  no  longer  needed.  Nor  are  you — 
for  the  patient.  But  I  deem  it  exceedingly  advisable 
that  you  should  shortly  pay  a  visit  to  the  nurse,  who  is 
losing  more  flesh  than  a  lady  of  her  proportions  can  well 
afford. 

Some  secret  care,  besides  the  natural  anxiety  of 
having  the  responsibility  of  this  case,  is  wearing  her 
out.  She  may  confide  in  you.  She  cannot  quite  bring 
herself  to  trust  in 

Your  humble  servant, 

Robert  Mackenzie. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


HARD    ON    THE    SECRETARY 


NURSE  ROSEMARY  sat  with  her  patient  in  the 
sunny  library  at  Gleneesh.  A  small  table  was 
between  them,  upon  which  lay  a  pile  of  letters — his 
morning  mail — ready  for  her  to  open,  read  to  him, 
and  pass  across,  should  there  chance  to  be  one  among 
them  he  wished  to  touch  or  to  keep  in  his  pocket. 

They  were  seated  close  to  the  French  window  opening 
on  to  the  terrace;  the  breeze,  fragrant  with  the  breath 
of  spring  flowers,  blew  about  them,  and  the  morning  sun 
streamed  in. 

Garth,  in  white  flannels,  wearing  a  green  tie  and  a 
button-hole  of  primroses,  lay  back  luxuriously,  enjoying, 
with  his  rapidly  quickening  senses,  the  scent  of  the 
flowers  and  the  touch  of  the  sun-beams. 

Nurse  Rosemary  finished  reading  a  letter  of  her 
own,  folded  it,  and  put  it  in  her  pocket  with  a  feeling 
of  thankful  relief.  Deryck  was  coming.  He  had  not 
failed  her. 

"A  man's  letter,  Miss  Gray,"  said  Garth  unex- 
pectedly. 

"Quite  right,"  said  Nurss  Rosemary.  "How  did 
you  know?" 

"Because  it  was  on  one  sheet.  A  woman's  letter 
on  a  matter  of  great  importance  would  have  run  to 
two,  if  not  three.  And  that  letter  was  on  a  matter  of 
importance. " 

"Right  again,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  smiling.  "And 
again,  how  did  you  know?" 

212 


Hard  on  the  Secretary  213 

"Because  you  gave  a  little  sigh  of  relief  after  reading 
the  first  line,  and  another,  as  you  folded  it  and  replaced 
it  in  the  envelope. " 

Nurse  Rosemary  laughed.  "You  are  getting  on  so 
fast,  Mr.  Dalmain,  that  soon  we  shall  be  able  to  keep 
no  secrets.    My  letter  was  from " 

"Oh,  don't  tell  me,"  cried  Garth  quickly,  putting 
out  his  hand  in  protest.  "I  had  no  idea  of  seeming 
curious  as  to  your  private  correspondence,  Miss  Gray. 
Only  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  report  progress  to  you 
in  the  things  I  manage  to  find  out  without  being  told." 

"But  I  meant  to  tell  you  anyway, "  said  Nurse  Rose- 
mary. "The  letter  is  from  Sir  Deryck,  and,  amongst 
other  things,  he  says  he  is  coming  up  to  see  you  next 
Saturday. " 

"Ah,  good!"  said  Garth.  "And  what  a  change  he 
will  find!  And  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  reporting 
on  the  nurse,  secretary,  reader,  and  unspeakably  patient 
guide  and  companion  he  provided  for  me."  Then  he 
added,  in  a  tone  of  suddenly  awakened  anxiety:  "He  is 
not  coming  to  take  you  away,  is  he?" 

"No,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  "not  yet.  But,  Mr. 
Dalmain,  I  was  wanting  to  ask  whether  you  could 
spare  me  just  during  forty-eight  hours ;  and  Dr.  Brand's 
visit  would  be  an  excellent  opportunity.  I  could  leave 
you  more  easily,  knowing  you  would  have  his  companion- 
ship. If  I  may  take  the  week-end,  leaving  on  Friday 
night,  I  could  return  early  on  Monday  morning,  and  be 
with  you  in  time  to  do  the  morning  letters.  Dr.  Brand 
would  read  you  Saturday's  and  Sunday's —  Ah,  I 
forgot;  there  is  no  Sunday  post.  So  I  should  miss  but 
one;  and  he  would  more  than  take  my  place  in  other 
ways." 

"Very  well,"  said  Garth,  striving  not  to  show  dis- 


214  The  Rosary 

appointment.  "I  should  have  liked  that  we  three 
should  have  talked  together.  But  no  wonder  you 
want  a  time  off.    Shall  you  be  going  far?" 

"No;  I  have  friends  near  by.  And  now,  do  you  wish 
to  attend  to  your  letters?" 

"Yes, "  said  Garth,  reaching  out  his  hand.  "Wait 
a  minute.  There  is  a  newspaper  among  them.  I  smell 
the  printing  ink.  I  don't  want  that.  But  kindly  give 
me  the  rest." 

Nurse  Rosemary  took  out  the  newspaper ;  then  pushed 
the  pile  along,  until  it  touched  his  hand. 

Garth  took  them.  "What  a  lot!"  he  said,  smiling 
in  pleasurable  anticipation.  "I  say,  Miss  Gray,  if  you 
profit  as  you  ought  to  do  by  the  reading  of  so  many 
epistles  written  in  every  possible  and  impossible  style, 
you  ought  to  be  able  to  bring  out  a  pretty  comprehensive 
'Complete  Letter- writer. '  Do  you  remember  the  con- 
dolences of  Mrs.  Parker  Bangs?  I  think  that  was  the 
first  time  we  really  laughed  together.  Kind  old  soul! 
But  she  should  not  have  mentioned  blind  Bartimaeus 
dipping  seven  times  in  the  pool  of  Siloam.  It  is  always 
best  to  avoid  classical  allusions,  especially  if  sacred, 
unless  one  has  them  accurately.   Now — "  Garth  paused. 

He  had  been  handling  his  letters,  one  by  one;  carefully 
fingering  each,  before  laying  it  on  the  table  beside  him. 
He  had  just  come  to  one  written  on  foreign  paper,  and 
sealed.  He  broke  off  his  sentence  abruptly,  held  the 
letter  silently  for  a  moment,  then  passed  his  fingers 
slowly  over  the  seal. 

Nurse  Rosemary  watched  him  anxiously.  He  made 
no  remark,  but  after  a  moment  laid  it  down  and  took  up 
the  next.  But  when  he  passed  the  pile  across  to  her, 
he  slipped  the  sealed  letter  beneath  the  rest,  so  that  she 
should  come  to  it  last  of  all. 


Hard  on  the  Secretary  215 

Then  the  usual  order  of  proceedings  commenced. 
Garth  lighted  a  cigarette — one  of  the  first  things  he  had 
learned  to  do  for  himself — and  smoked  contentedly, 
carefully  placing  his  ash-tray,  and  almost  unfailingly 
locating  the  ash,  in  time  and  correctly. 

Nurse  Rosemary  took  up  the  first  letter,  read  the 
postmark,  and  described  the  writing  on  the  envelope. 
Garth  guessed  from  whom  it  came,  and  was  immensely 
pleased  if,  on  opening,  his  surmise  proved  correct.  There 
were  nine  to-day,  of  varying  interest, — some  from  men 
friends,  one  or  two  from  charming  women  who  professed 
themselves  ready  to  come  and  see  him  as  soon  as  he 
wished  for  visitors,  one  from  a  blind  asylum  asking  for  a 
subscription,  a  short  note  from  the  doctor  heralding  his 
visit,  and  a  bill  for  ties  from  a  Bond  Street  shop. 

Nurse  Rosemary's  fingers  shook  as  she  replaced  the 
eighth  in  its  envelope.  The  last  of  the  pile  lay  on  the 
table.  As  she  took  it  up,  Garth  with  a  quick  movement 
flung  his  cigarette-end  through  the  window,  and  lay 
back,  shading  his  face  with  his  hand. 

"Did  I  shoot  straight,  nurse?"  he  asked. 

She  leaned  forward  and  saw  the  tiny  column  of  blue 
smoke  rising  from  the  gravel. 

"Quite  straight,"  she  said.  "Mr.  Dalmain,  this 
letter  has  an  Egyptian  stamp,  and  the  postmark  is 
Cairo.  It  is  sealed  with  scarlet  sealing-wax,  and  the 
engraving  on  the  seal  is  a  plumed  helmet  with  the 
visor  closed. " 

"And  the  writing?"  asked  Garth,  mechanically  and 
very  quietly. 

"The  handwriting  is  rather  bold  and  very  clear,  with 
no  twirls  or  flourishes.    It  is  written  with  a  broad  nib. " 

"Will  you  kindly  open  it,  nurse,  and  tell  me  the 
signature  before  reading  the  rest  of  the  letter. " 


216  The  Rosary- 

Nurse  Rosemary  fought  with  her  throat,  which  threat- 
ened to  close  altogether  and  stifle  her  voice.    She  opened 
the  letter,  turned  to  the  last  page,  and  found  the  signature. 
"It  is  signed  'Jane  Champion,'  Mr.  Dalmain, "  said 
Nurse  Rosemary. 

"Read  it,  please,"  said  Garth  quietly.  And  Nurse 
Rosemary  began. 

Dear  Dal:  What  can  I  write?  If  I  were  with  you, 
there  would  be  so  much  I  could  say;  but  writing  is 
so  difficult,  so  impossible. 

I  know  it  is  harder  for  you  than  it  would  have  been 
for  any  of  us;  but  you  will  be  braver  over  it  than  we 
should  have  been,  and  you  will  come  through  splendidly, 
and  go  on  thinking  life  beautiful,  and  making  it  seem  so 
to  other  people.  /  never  thought  it  so  until  that  summer 
at  Overdene  and  Shenstone  when  you  taught  me  the 
perception  of  beauty.  Since  then,  in  every  sunset  and 
sunrise,  in  the  blue-green  of  the  Atlantic,  the  purple  of 
the  mountains,  the  spray  of  Niagara,  the  cherry  blossom 
of  Japan,  the  golden  deserts  of  Egypt,  I  have  thought  of 
jou,  and  understood  them  better,  because  of  you.  Oh, 
Dal!  I  should  like  to  come  and  tell  you  all  about  them, 
and  let  you  see  them  through  my  eyes;  and  then  you 
would  widen  out  my  narrow  understanding  of  them,  and 
show  them  again  to  me  in  greater  loveliness. 

I  hear  you  receive  no  visitors;  but  cannot  you  make 
just  one  exception,  and  let  me  come? 

I  was  at  the  Great  Pyramid  when  I  heard.  I  was 
sitting  on  the  piazza  after  dinner.  The  moonlight  called 
up  memories.  I  had  just  made  up  my  mind  to  give  up 
the  Nile,  and  to  come  straight  home,  and  write  asking  you 
to  come  and  see  me ;  when  General  Loraine  turned  up,  with 
an  English  paper  and  a  letter  from  Myra,  and — I  heard. 


Hard  on  the  Secretary  217 

Would  you  have  come,  Garth? 

And  now,  my  friend,  as  you  cannot  come  to  me, 
may  I  come  to  you?  If  you  just  say:  "Come,"  I  will 
come  from  any  part  of  the  world  where  I  may  chance 
to  be  when  the  message  reaches  me.  Never  mind  this 
Egyptian  address.  I  shall  not  be  there  when  you  are 
hearing  this.  Direct  to  me  at  my  aunt's  town  house. 
All  my  letters  go  there,  and  are  forwarded  unopened. 

Let  me  come.  And  oh,  do  believe  that  I  know  some- 
thing of  how  hard  it  is  for  you.    But  God  can  "enable. " 

Believe  me  to  be, 
Yours,  more  than  I  can  write, 

Jane  Champion. 

Garth  removed  the  hand  which  had  been  shielding 
his  face. 

"If  you  are  not  tired,  Miss  Gray,  after  reading  so 
many  letters,  I  should  like  to  dictate  my  answer  to 
that  one  immediately,  while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind. 
Have  you  paper  there?  Thank  you.  May  we  begin? 
— Dear  Miss  Champion.  ...  I  am  deeply  touched  by 
your  kind  letter  of  sympathy.  ...  It  was  especially 
good  of  you  to  write  to  me  from  so  far  away  amid  so 
much  which  might  well  have  diverted  your  attention 
from  friends  at  home. " 

A  long  pause.  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray  waited,  pen 
in  hand,  and  hoped  the  beating  of  her  heart  was  only 
in  her  own  ears,  and  not  audible  across  the  small  table. 

"I  am  glad  you  did  not  give  up  the  Nile  trip  but — " 

An  early  bee  hummed  in  from  the  hyacinths  and 
buzzed  against  the  pane.  Otherwise  the  room  was 
very  still. 

— "but,  of  course,  if  you  had  sent  for  me  I  should 
have  come." 


2i 8  The  Rosary 

The  bee  fought  the  window  angrily,  up  and  down, 
up  and  down,  for  several  minutes;  then  found  the  open 
glass  and  whirled  out  into  the  sunshine,  joyfully. 

Absolute  silence  in  the  room,  until  Garth's  quiet 
voice  broke  it  as  he  went  on  dictating. 

"It  is  more  than  kind  of  you  to  suggest  coming  to 
see  me,  but " 

Nurse  Rosemary  dropped  her  pen.  "Oh,  Mr.  Dal- 
main, "  she  said,  "let  her  come." 

Garth  turned  upon  her  a  face  of  blank  surprise. 

"I  do  not  wish  it,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  absolute 
finality. 

"But  think  how  hard  it  must  be  for  any  one  to  want 
so  much  to  be  near  a — a  friend  in  trouble,  and  to  be 
kept  away." 

"It  is  only  her  wonderful  kindness  of  heart  makes 
her  offer  to  come,  Miss  Gray.  She  is  a  friend  and  com- 
rade of  long  ago.  It  would  greatly  sadden  her  to  see  me 
thus." 

"It  does  not  seem  so  to  her,"  pleaded  Nurse  Rose- 
mary. "Ah,  cannot  you  read  between  the  lines?  Or 
does  it  take  a  woman's  heart  to  understand  a  woman's 
letter?    Did  I  read  it  badly?    May  I  read  it  over  again?  " 

A  look  of  real  annoyance  gathered  upon  Garth's 
face.  He  spoke  with  quiet  sternness,  a  frown  bending 
his  straight  black  brows. 

"You  read  it  quite  well, "  he  said,  "but  you  do  not  do 
well  to  discuss  it.  I  must  feel  able  to  dictate  my  letters 
to  my  secretary,  without  having  to  explain  them." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary 
humbly.    "I  was  wrong." 

Garth  stretched  his  hand  across  the  table,  and  left 
it  there  a  moment;  though  no  responsive  hand  was 
placed  within  it. 


Hard  on  the  Secretary  219 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  with  his  winning  smile, 
"my  kind  little  mentor  and  guide.  You  can  direct 
me  in  most  things,  but  not  in  this.  Now  let  us  con- 
clude. Where  were  we?  Ah — 'to  suggest  coming  to 
see  me. '  Did  you  put  '  It  is  most  kind '  or  '  It  is  more 
than  kind?'  "  ' 

"  'More  than  kind,'  "  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  brokenly. 

"Right,  for  it  is  indeed  more  than  kind.  Only  she 
and  I  can  possibly  know  how  much  more.  Now  let 
us  go  on.  .  .  .  But  I  am  receiving  no  visitors,  and  do 
not  desire  any  until  I  have  so  mastered  my  new  cir- 
cumstances that  the  handicap  connected  with  them 
shall  neither  be  painful  nor  very  noticeable  to  other 
people.  During  the  summer  I  shall  be  learning  step 
by  step  to  live  this  new  life,  in  complete  seclusion  at 
Gleneesh.  I  feel  sure  my  friends  will  respect  my  wish 
in  this  matter.  I  have  with  me  one  who  most  perfectly 
and  patiently  is  helping — Ah,  wait!"  cried  Garth  sud- 
denly. "I  will  not  say  that.  She  might  think — she 
might  misunderstand.  Had  you  begun  to  write  it?  No? 
What  was  the  last  word?  'Matter?'  Ah  yes.  That  is 
right.    Full  stop  after 'matter. '    Now  let  me  think. " 

Garth  dropped  his  face  into  his  hands,  and  sat  for  a 
long  time  absorbed  in  thought. 

Nurse  Rosemary  waited.  Her  right  hand  held  the 
pen  poised  over  the  paper.  Her  left  was  pressed  against 
her  breast.  Her  eyes  rested  on  that  dark  bowed  head, 
with  a  look  of  unutterable  yearning  and  of  passionate 
tenderness. 

At  last  Garth  lifted  his  face.  "Yours  very  sincerely, 
Garth  Dalmain."  he  said.  And,  silently,  Nurse  Rosemary 
wrote  it. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


DR.    ROB   TO   THE   RESCUE 


INTO  the  somewhat  oppressive  silence  which  fol- 
lowed the  addressing  and  closing  of  the  envelope, 
broke  the  cheery  voice  of  Dr.  Rob. 

"Which  is  the  patient  to-day?  The  lady  or  the 
gentleman?  Ah,  neither,  I  see.  Both  flaunt  the  bloom 
of  perfect  health  and  make  the  doctor  shy.  It  is  spring 
without,  but  summer  within, "  ran  on  Dr.  Rob  gaily, 
wondering  why  both  faces  were  so  white  and  perturbed, 
and  why  there  was  in  the  air  a  sense  of  hearts  in  torment. 
"Flannels  seem  to  call  up  boating  and  picnic  parties; 
and  I  see  you  have  discarded  the  merino,  Nurse  Gray, 
and  returned  to  the  pretty  blue  washables.  More 
becoming,  undoubtedly;  only,  don't  take  cold;  and  be 
sure  you  feed  up  well.  In  this  air  people  must  eat  plenty, 
and  you  have  been  perceptibly  losing  weight  lately.  We 
don't  want  too  airy-fairy  dimensions. " 

"Why  do  you  always  chaff  Miss  Gray  about  being 
small,  Dr.  Rob?"  asked  Garth,  in  a  rather  vexed  tone. 
"  I  am  sure  being  short  is  in  no  way  detrimental  to  her. " 

"I  will  chaff  her  about  being  tall  if  you  like,"  said 
Dr.  Rob,  looking  at  her  with  a  wicked  twinkle,  as  she 
stood  in  the  window,  drawn  up  to  her  full  height,  and 
regarding  him  with  cold  disapproval. 

"I  would  sooner  no  comments  of  any  kind  were 
made  upon  her  personal  appearance,"  said  Gartk 
shortly;  then  added,  more  pleasantly:  "You  see,  she 
is  just  a  voice  to  me; — a  kind,  guiding  voice.  At  first  I 
used  to  form  mental  pictures  of  her,  of  a  hazy  kind ;  but 

220 


Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue  221 

now  I  prefer  to  appropriate  in  all  its  helpfulness  what  I 
do  know,  and  leave  unimagined  what  I  do  not.  Did  it 
ever  strike  you  that  she  is  the  only  person — bar  that 
fellow  Johnson,  who  belongs  to  a  nightmare  time  I  am 
quickly  forgetting — I  have  yet  had  near  me,  in  my  blind- 
ness, whom  I  had  not  already  seen;  the  only  voice  I  have 
ever  heard  to  which  I  could  not  put  a  face  and  figure? 
In  time,  of  course,  there  will  be  many.  At  present  she 
stands  alone  to  me  in  this." 

Dr.  Rob's  observant  eye  had  been  darting  about 
during  this  explanation,  seeking  to  focus  itself  upon 
something  worthy  of  minute  examination.  Suddenly 
he  spied  the  foreign  letter  lying  close  beside  him  on 
the  table. 

"Hello ! "  he  said.  "Pyramids?  The  Egyptian  stamp? 
That's  interesting.  Have  you  friends  out  there,  Mr. 
Dalmain?" 

"That  letter  came  from  Cairo,"  Garth  replied;  "but 
I  believe  Miss  Champion  has  by  now  gone  on  to  Syria." 

Dr.  Rob  attacked  his  moustache,  and  stared  at 
the  letter  meditatively.  "Champion?"  he  repeated. 
"Champion?  It's  an  uncommon  name.  Is  your 
correspondent,  by  any  chance,  the  Honourable  Jane?" 

"Why,  that  letter  is  from  her,"  replied  Garth,  sur- 
prised. "Do  you  know  her?"  His  voice  vibrated 
eagerly. 

"Well,"  answered  Dr.  Rob,  with  slow  deliberation, 
"I  know  her  face,  and  I  know  her  voice;  I  know  her 
figure,  and  I  know  a  pretty  good  deal  of  her  character. 
I  know  her  at  home,  and  I  know  her  abroad.  I've 
seen  her  under  fire,  which  is  more  than  most  men  of 
her  acquaintance  can  claim.  But  there  is  one  thing  I 
never  knew  until  to-day  and  that  is  her  handwriting. 
May   I   examine  this  envelope?"     He   turned  to   the 


222  The  Rosary 

window; — yes,  this  audacious  little  Scotchman  had 
asked  the  question  of  Nurse  Rosemary.  But  only  a 
broad  blue  back  met  his  look  of  inquiry.  Nurse  Rose- 
mary was  studying  the  view.  He  turned  back  to  Garth, 
who  had  evidently  already  made  a  sign  of  assent,  and 
on  whose  face  was  clearly  expressed  an  eager  desire  to 
hear  more,  and  an  extreme  disinclination  to  ask  for  it. 

Dr.  Mackenzie  took  up  the  envelope  and  pondered  it. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  at  last,  "it  is  like  her, — clear,  firm, 
unwavering;  knowing  what  it  means  to  say,  and  saying 
it;  going  where  it  means  to  go,  and  getting  there.  Ay, 
lad,  it's  a  grand  woman  that ;  and  if  you  have  the  Honour- 
able Jane  for  your  friend,  you  can  be  doing  without  a  few 
other  things." 

A  tinge  of  eager  colour  rose  in  Garth's  thin  cheeks. 
He  had  been  so  starved  in  his  darkness  for  want  of 
some  word  concerning  her,  from  that  outer  light  in 
which  she  moved.  He  had  felt  so  hopelessly  cut  off 
from  all  chance  of  hearing  of  her.  And  all  the  while, 
if  only  he  had  known  it,  old  Robbie  could  have  talked 
of  her.  He  had  had  to  question  Brand  so  cautiously, 
fearing  to  betray  his  secret  and  hers;  but  with  Dr. 
Rob  and  Nurse  Gray  no  such  precautions  were  needed. 
He  could  safely  guard  his  secret,  and  yet  listen  and 
speak. 

"Where — when?"  asked  Garth. 

"I  will  tell  you  where,  and  I  will  tell  you  when," 
answered  Dr.  Rob,  "if  you  feel  inclined  for  a  war  tale 
on  this  peaceful  spring  morning. " 

Garth  was  aflame  with  eagerness.  "Have  you  a 
chair,  doctor?"  he  said.    "And  has  Miss  Gray  a  chair?" 

"I  have  no  chair,  sir,"  said  Dr.  Rob,  "because  when 
I  intend  thoroughly  to  enjoy  my  own  eloquence  it  is  my 
custom  to  stand.    Nurse  Gray  has  no  chair,  because  she 


Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue  223 

is  standing  at  the  window  absorbed  in  the  view.  She  has 
apparently  ceased  to  pay  any  heed  to  you  and  me.  You 
will  very  rarely  find  one  woman  take  much  interest  in 
tales  about  another.  But  you  lean  back  in  your  own 
chair,  laddie,  and  light  a  cigarette.  And  a  wonderful 
thing  it  is  to  see  you  do  it,  too,  and  better  than  pounding 
the  wall.  Eh?  All  of  which  we  may  consider  we  owe  to 
the  lady  who  disdains  us  and  prefers  the  scenery.  Well, 
I'm  not  much  to  look  at,  goodness  knows;  and  she  can 
see  you  all  the  rest  of  the  day.  Now  that's  a  brand  worth 
smoking.  What  do  you  call  it — 'Zenith'?  Ah,  and 
' Marco vitch.'  Yes;  you  can't  better  that  for  drawing- 
room  and  garden  purposes.  It  mingles  with  the  flowers. 
Lean  back  and  enjoy  it,  while  I  smell  gun -powder.  For 
I  will  tell  you  where  I  first  saw  the  Honourable  Jane. 
Out  in  South  Africa,  in  the  very  thick  of  the  Boer  war. 
I  had  volunteered  for  the  sake  of  the  surgery  experience. 
She  was  out  there,  nursing;  but  the  real  thing,  mind  you. 
None  of  your  dabbling  in  eau-de-cologne  with  lace 
handkerchiefs,  and  washing  handsome  faces  when  the 
orderlies  had  washed  them  already;  making  charming 
conversation  to  men  who  were  getting  well,  but  fleeing 
in  dread  from  the  dead  or  the  dying.  None  of  that,  3rou 
may  be  sure,  and  none  of  that  allowed  in  her  hospital ;  for 
Miss  Champion  was  in  command  there,  and  I  can  tell  you 
she  made  them  scoot.  She  did  the  work  of  ten,  and 
expected  others  to  do  it  too.  Doctors  and  orderlies 
adored  her.  She  was  always  called  'The  Honourable 
Jane, '  most  of  the  men  sounding  the  h  and  pronouncing 
the  title  as  four  syllables.  Ay,  and  the  wounded  soldiers! 
There  was  many  a  lad  out  there,  far  from  home  and 
friends,  who,  when  death  came,  died  with  a  smile  on  his 
lips,  and  a  sense  of  mother  and  home  quite  near,  because 
the  Honourable  Jane's  arm  was  around  him,  and  his 


224  The  Rosary- 

dying  head  rested  against  her  womanly  breast.  Her 
voice  when  she  talked  to  them?  No, — that  I  shall  never 
forget.  And  to  hear  her  snap  at  the  women,  and  order 
along  the  men ;  and  then  turn  and  speak  to  a  sick  Tommy 
as  his  mother  or  his  sweetheart  would  have  wished  to 
hear  him  spoken  to,  was  a  lesson  in  quick-change  from 
which  I  am  profiting  still.  And  that  big,  loving  heart 
must  often  have  been  racked;  but  she  was  always  brave 
and  bright.  Just  once  she  broke  down.  It  was  over  a 
boy  whom  she  tried  hard  to  save — quite  a  youngster. 
She  had  held  him  during  the  operation  which  was  his  only 
chance;  and  when  it  proved  no  good,  and  he  lay  back 
against  her  unconscious,  she  quite  broke  down  and 
said:  'Oh,  doctor, — a  mere  boy — and  to  suffer  so,  and 
then  die  like  this!'  and  gathered  him  to  her,  and  wept 
over  him,  as  his  own  mother  might  have  done.  The 
surgeon  told  me  of  it  himself.  He  said  the  hardest 
hearts  in  the  tent  were  touched  and  softened.  But, 
it  was  the  only  time  the  Honourable  Jane  broke  down." 

Garth  shielded  his  face  with  his  hand.  His  half- 
smoked  cigarette  fell  unheeded  to  the  floor.  The  hand 
that  had  held  it  was  clenched  on  his  knee.  Dr.  Rob 
picked  it  up,  and  rubbed  the  scorched  spot  on  the 
carpet  carefully  with  his  foot.  He  glanced  towards 
the  window.  Nurse  Rosemary  had  turned  and  was 
leaning  against  the  frame.  She  did  not  look  at  him, 
but  her  eyes  dwelt  with  troubled  anxiety  on  Garth. 

"  I  came  across  her  several  times,  at  different  centres, " 
continued  Dr.  Rob;  "but  we  were  not  in  the  same 
departments,  and  she  spoke  to  me  only  once.  I  had 
ridden  in,  from  a  temporary  overflow  sort  of  place 
where  we  were  dealing  with  the  worst  cases  straight  off 
the  field,  to  the  main  hospital  in  the  town  for  a  fresh 
supply  of  chloroform.    While  they  fetched  it,  I  walked 


Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue  225 

round  the  ward,  and  there  in  a  corner  was  Miss  Cham- 
pion, kneeling  beside  a  man  whose  last  hour  was  very 
near,  talking  to  him  quietly,  and  taking  measures  at  the 
same  time  to  ease  his  pain.     Suddenly  there  came  a 
crash — a  deafening  rush — and  another  crash,  and  the 
Honourable  Jane  and  her  patient  were  covered  with  dust 
and  splinters.    A  Boer  shell  had  gone  clean  through  the 
roof  just  over  their  heads.    The  man  sat  up,  yelling  with 
fear.     Poor  chap,  you  couldn't  blame  him;  dying,  and 
half  under  morphine.    The  Honourable  Jane  never  turned 
a  hair.     'Lie  down,  my  man,'  she  said,  'and  keep  still.' 
'Not   here,'    sobbed   the   man.      'All   right,'    said   the 
Honourable   Jane;    'we   will   soon   move   you.'     Then 
she  turned  and  saw  me.    I  was  in  the  most  nondescript 
khaki,  a  non-com's  jacket  which  I  had  caught  up  on 
leaving  the  tent,  and  various  odds  and  ends  of  my  outfit 
which  had  survived  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  campaign. 
Also  I  was  dusty  with  a  long  gallop.     'Here,  serjeant,' 
she  said,  'lend  a  hand  with  this  poor  fellow.     I  can't 
have  him  disturbed  just  now.'     That  was  Jane's  only 
comment  on  the  passing  of  a  shell  within  a  few  yards  of 
her  own  head.    Do  you  wonder  the  men  adored  her?    She 
placed  her  hands  beneath  his  shoulders,  and  signed  to  me 
to  take  him  under  the  knees,  and  together  we  carried 
him  round  a  screen,  out  of  the  ward,  and  down  a  short 
passage;  turning  unexpectedly  into  a  quiet  little  room, 
with  a  comfortable  bed,   and  photographs  and  books 
arranged  on  the  tiny  dressing-table.    She  said:  'Here,  if 
you   please,   serjeant,'   and  we  laid  him   on   the  bed. 
'Whose  is  it?'  I  asked.     She  looked  surprised  at  being 
questioned,  but  seeing  I  was  a  stranger,  answered  civilly: 
'Mine.'    And  then,  noting  that  he  had  dozed  off  while 
we  carried  him,  added:     'And  he  will  have  done  with 
beds,  poor  chap,  before  I  need  it.'     There's  nerve  for 
is 


226  The  Rosary 

you! — Well,  that  was  my  only  conversation  out  there 
with  the  Honourable  Jane.  Soon  after  I  had  had  enough 
and  came  home." 

Garth  lifted  his  head.  "Did  you  ever  meet  her  at 
home?"  he  asked. 

"I  did,"  said  Dr.  Rob.  "But  she  did  not  remember 
me.  Not  a  flicker  of  recognition.  Well,  how  could 
I  expect  it?  I  wore  a  beard  out  there;  no  time  to  shave; 
and  my  jacket  proclaimed  me  a  serjeant,  not  a  surgeon. 
No  fault  of  hers  if  she  did  not  expect  to  meet  a  comrade 
from  the  front  in  the  wilds  of — of  Piccadilly, "  finished 
Dr.  Rob  lamely.  "Now,  having  spun  so  long  a  yarn,  I 
must  be  off  to  your  gardener's  cot  in  the  wood,  to  see  his 
good  wife,  who  has  had  what  he  pathetically  calls  'an 
increase. '  I  should  think  a  decrease  would  have  better 
suited  the  size  of  his  house.  But  first  I  must  interview 
Mistress  Margery  in  the  dining-room.  She  is  anxious 
about  herself  just  now  because  she  'canna  eat  bacon.' 
She  says  it  flies  between  her  shoulders.  So  erratic  a 
deviation  from  its  normal  route  on  the  part  of  the  bacon, 
undoubtedly  requires  investigation.  So,  by  your  leave, 
I  will  ring  for  the  good  lady.  " 

"Not  just  yet,  doctor,"  said  a  quiet  voice  from  the 
window.  "I  want  to  see  you  in  the  dining-room,  and 
will  follow  you  there  immediately.  And  afterwards, 
while  you  investigate  Margery,  I  will  run  up  for  my 
bonnet,  and  walk  with  you  through  the  woods,  if  Mr. 
Dalmain  will  not  mind  an  hour  alone. " 

When  Jane  reached  the  dining-room,  Dr.  Robert 
Mackenzie  was  standing  on  the  hearth-rug  in  a  Napo- 
leonic attitude,  just  as  on  the  morning  of  their  first 
interview.    He  looked  up  uncertainly  as  she  came  in. 

"Well?"  he  said.    "Am  I  to  pay  the  piper?" 

Jane  came  straight  to  him,  with  both  hands  extended. 


Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue  227 

"Ah,  Serjeant!"  she  said.  "You  dear  faithful  old 
serjeant!  See  what  comes  of  wearing  another  man's 
coat.  And  my  dilemma  comes  from  taking  another 
woman's  name.  So  you  knew  me  all  the  time,  from  the 
first  moment  I  came  into  the  room?" 

"From  the  first  moment  you  entered  the  room," 
assented  Dr.  Rob. 

"Why  did  you  not  say  so?"  asked  Jane. 

"Well,  I  concluded  you  had  your  reasons  for  being 
'  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray, '  and  it  did  not  come  within 
my  province  to  question  your  identity. " 

"  Oh,  you  dear ! "  said  Jane.  "Was  there  ever  anything 
so  shrewd,  and  so  wise,  and  so  bewilderingly  far-seeing, 
standing  on  two  legs  on  a  hearth-rug  before !  And  when 
I  remember  how  you  said:  'So  you  have  arrived,  Nurse 
Gray?'  and  all  the  while  you  might  have  been  saying: 
1  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Champion?  And  what  brings  you 
up  here  under  somebody  else's  name?'" 

"I  might  have  so  said,"  agreed  Dr.  Rob  reflectively; 
"but  praise  be,  I  did  not. " 

"But  tell  me,"  said  Jane,  "why  let  it  out  now?" 

Dr.  Rob  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "My  dear,  I 
am  an  old  fellow,  and  all  my  life  I  have  made  it  my 
business  to  know,  without  being  told.  You  have  been 
coming  through  a  strain, — a  prolonged  period  of  strain, 
sometimes  harder,  sometimes  easier,  but  never  quite 
relaxed, — a  strain  such  as  few  women  could  have  borne. 
It  was  not  only  with  him ;  you  had  to  keep  it  up  towards 
us  all.  I  knew,  if  it  were  to  continue,  you  must  soon  have 
the  relief  of  some  one  with  whom  to  share  the  secret, — ■ 
some  one  towards  whom  you  could  be  yourself  occasion- 
ally. And  when  I  found  you  had  been  writing  to  him 
here,  sending  the  letter  to  be  posted  in  Cairo  (how  like  a 
woman,  to  strain  at  a  gnat,  after  swallowing  such  a 


228  The  Rosary 

camel!),  awaiting  its  return  day  after  day,  then  obliged 
to  read  it  to  him  yourself,  and  take  down  his  dictated 
answer,  which  I  gathered  from  your  faces  when  I  entered 
was  his  refusal  of  your  request  to  come  and  see  him,  well, 
it  seemed  to  me  about  time  you  were  made  to  realise 
that  you  might  as  well  confide  in  an  old  fellow  who, 
in  common  with  all  the  men  who  knew  you  in  South 
Africa,  would  gladly  give  his  right  hand  for  the 
Honourable  Jane." 

Jane  looked  at  him,  her  eyes  full  of  gratitude.  For 
the  moment  she  could  not  speak. 

"But  tell  me,  my  dear,"  said  Dr.  Rob,  "tell  me,  if 
you  can:  why  does  th  lad  put  from  him  so  firmly  that 
which,  if  indeed  it  might  be  his  for  the  asking,  would 
mean  for  him  so  great,  so  wonderful,  so  comforting  a 
good?" 

"Ah,  doctor,"  said  Jane,  "thereby  hangs  a  tale  of 
sad  mistrust  and  mistake,  and  the  mistrust  and  mis- 
take, alas,  were  mine.  Now,  while  you  see  Margery, 
I  will  prepare  for  walking;  and  as  we  go  through  the 
wood  I  will  try  to  tell  you  the  woeful  thing  which  came 
between  him  and  me  and  placed  our  lives  so  far  apart. 
Your  wise  advice  will  help  me,  and  your  shrewd  know- 
ledge of  men  and  of  the  human  heart  may  find  us  a  way 
out,  for  indeed  we  are  shut  in  between  Migdol  and  the 
sea. " 

As  Jane  crossed  the  hall  and  was  about  to  mount 
the  stairs,  she  looked  towards  the  closed  library  door. 
A  sudden  fear  seized  her,  lest  the  strain  of  listening  to 
that  tale  of  Dr.  Rob's  had  been  too  much  for  Garth. 
None  but  she  could  know  all  it  must  have  awakened 
of  memory  to  be  told  so  vividly  of  the  dying  soldiers 
whose  heads  were  pillowed  on  her  breast,  and  the  strange 
coincidence  of  those  words,  "A  mere  boy — and  to  suffer 


Dr.  Rob  to  the  Rescue  229 

so!"  She  could  not  leave  the  house  without  being  sure 
he  was  safe  and  well.  And  yet  she  instinctively  feared 
to  intrude  when  he  imagined  himself  alone  for  an  hour. 

Then  Jane,  in  her  anxiety,  did  a  thing  she  had  never 
done  before.  She  opened  the  front  door  noiselessly, 
passed  round  the  house  to  the  terrace,  and  when  ap- 
proaching the  open  window  of  the  library,  trod  on  the 
grass  border,  and  reached  it  without  making  the  faintest 
sound. 

Never  before  had  she  come  upon  him  unawares,  know- 
ing he  hated  and  dreaded  the  thought  of  an  unseen 
intrusion  on  his  privacy. 

But  now — just  this  once 

Jane  looked  in  at  the  window. 

Garth  sat  sideways  in  the  chair,  his  arms  folded  on 
the  table  beside  him,  his  face  buried  in  them.  He  was 
sobbing  as  she  had  sometimes  heard  men  sob  after 
agonising  operations,  borne  without  a  sound  until  the 
worst  was  over.  And  Garth's  sob  of  agony  was  this: 
"Oh,  my  wife — my  wife — my  wife!" 

Jane  crept  away.  How  she  did  it  she  never  knew. 
But  some  instinct  told  her  that  to  reveal  herself  then, 
taking  him  at  a  disadvantage,  when  Dr.  Rob's  story 
had  unnerved  and  unmanned  him,  would  be  to  ruin 
all.  "If  you  value  your  ultimate  happiness  and  his" 
Deryck's  voice  always  sounded  in  warning.  Besides, 
it  was  such  a  short  postponement.  In  the  calm  earnest 
thought  which  would  succeed  this  storm,  his  need  of  her, 
would  win  the  day.  The  letter,  not  yet  posted,  would  be 
rewritten.  He  would  say  "Come" —  and  the  next 
minute  he  would  be  in  her  arms. 

So  Jane  turned  noiselessly  away. 

Coming  in,  an  hour  later,  from  her  walk  with  Dr. 
Rob,  her  heart  filled  with  glad  anticipation,  she  found 


230  The  Rosary 

him  standing  in  the  window,  listening  to  the  countless 
sounds  he  was  learning  to  distinguish.  He  looked  so 
slim  and  tall  and  straight  in  his  white  flannels,  both 
hands  thrust  deep  into  the  pockets  of  his  coat,  that 
when  he  turned  at  her  approach  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  the  shining  eyes  must  be  there. 

"Was  it  lovely  in  the  woods?"  he  asked.  "Simpson 
shall  take  me  up  there  after  lunch.  Meanwhile,  is 
there  time,  if  you  are  not  tired,  Miss  Gray,  to  finish 
our  morning's  work?" 

Five  letters  were  dictated  and  a  cheque  written. 
Then  Jane  noticed  that  hers  to  him  had  gone  from 
among  the  rest.  But  his  to  her  lay  on  the  table  ready 
for  stamping.    She  hesitated. 

"And  about  the  letter  to  Miss  Champion?"  she  said. 
"Do  you  wish  it  to  go  as  it  is,  Mr.  Dalmain?" 

"Why  certainly,"  he  said.    "Did  we  not  finish  it?" 

"I  thought,"  said  Jane  nervously,  looking  away  from 
his  blank  face,  "I  thought  perhaps — after  Dr.  Rob's 
story — you  might " 

"Dr.  Rob's  story  could  make  no  possible  difference 
as  to  whether  I  should  let  her  come  here  or  not, "  said 
Garth  emphatically;  then  added  more  gently:  "It  only 
reminded  me " 

"Of  what?"  asked  Jane,  her  hands  upon  her  breast. 

"Of  what  a  glorious  woman  she  is,"  said  Garth 
Dalmain,  and  blew  a  long,  steady  cloud  of  smoke  into 
the  summer  air. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


THE   ONLY   WAY 


WHEN  Deryck  Brand  alighted  at  the  little  northern 
wayside  station,  he  looked  up  and  down  the 
gravelled  platform,  more  than  half  expecting  to  see 
Jane.  The  hour  was  early,  but  she  invariably  said: 
"So  much  the  better"  to  any  plan  which  involved  rising 
earlier  than  usual.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen,  however, 
but  his  portmanteau  in  the  distance — looking  as  if  it  had 
taken  up  a  solitary  and  permanent  position  where  the 
guard  had  placed  it — and  one  slow  porter,  who  appeared 
to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  fact  that  he  alone  was  on  duty 
to  receive  the  train. 

There  were  no  other  passengers  descending;  there 
was  no  other  baggage  to  put  out.  The  guard  swung 
up  into  his  van  as  the  train  moved  off. 

The  old  porter,  shading  his  eyes  from  the  slanting 
rays  of  the  morning  sun,  watched  the  train  glide 
round  the  curve  and  disappear  from  sight;  then  slowly 
turned  and  looked  the  other  way, — as  if  to  make  sure 
there  was  not  another  coming, — saw  the  portmanteau, 
and  shambled  towards  it.  He  stood  looking  down 
upon  it  pensively,  then  moved  slowly  round,  appar- 
ently reading  the  names  and  particulars  of  all  the 
various  continental  hotels  at  which  the  portmanteau 
had  recently  stayed  with  its  owner. 

Dr.  Brand  never  hurried  people.  He  always  said: 
"It  answers  best,  in  the  long  run,  to  let  them  take 
their  own  time.  The  minute  or  two  gained  by  hurry- 
ing them  is  lost  in  the  final  results."    But  this  applied 

231 


232  The  Rosary 

chiefly  to  patients  in  the  consulting-room;  to  anxious 
young  students  in  hospital;  or  to  nurses,  too  excitedly 
conscious  at  first  of  the  fact  that  he  was  talking  to 
them,  to  take  in  fully  what  he  was  saying.  His  habit  of 
giving  people,  even  in  final  moments,  the  full  time  they 
wanted,  had  once  lost  him  an  overcoat,  almost  lost  him 
a  train,  and  won  him  the  thing  in  life  he  most  desired. 
But  that  belongs  to  another  story. 

Meanwhile  he  wanted  his  breakfast  on  this  fresh 
spring  morning.  And  he  wanted  to  see  Jane.  There- 
fore, as  porter  and  portmanteau  made  no  advance 
towards  him,  the  doctor  strode  down  the  platform. 

"Now  then,  my  man!"  he  called. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  the  Scotch  porter. 

"  I  want  my  portmanteau. " 

"Would  this  be  your  portmanteau?"  inquired  the 
porter  doubtfully. 

"It  would,"  said  the  doctor.  "And  it  and  I  would 
be  on  our  way  to  Castle  Gleneesh,  if  you  would  be 
bringing  it  out  and  putting  it  into  the  motor,  which  I 
see  waiting  outside. " 

"I  will  be  fetching  a  truck,"  said  the  porter.  But 
when  he  returned,  carefully  trundling  it  behind  him, 
the  doctor,  the  portmanteau,  and  the  motor  were  all 
out  of  sight. 

The  porter  shaded  his  eyes  and  gazed  up  the  road. 
"I  will  be  hoping  it  was  his  portmanteau,"  he  said, 
and  went  back  to  his  porridge. 

Meanwhile  the  doctor  sped  up  into  the  hills,  his 
mind  alight  with  eagerness  to  meet  Jane  and  to  learn 
the  developments  of  the  last  few  days.  Her  non-appear- 
ance at  the  railway  station  filled  him  with  an  undefinable 
anxiety.  It  would  have  been  so  like  Jane  to  have  been 
there,  prompt  to  seize  the  chance  of  a  talk  with  him  alone 


The  Only  Way  233 

before  he  reached  the  house.  He  had  called  up,  in 
anticipation,  such  a  vivid  picture  of  her,  waiting  on  the 
platform, — bright,  alert,  vigorous,  with  that  fresh  and 
healthy  vigour  which  betokens  a  good  night's  rest,  a 
pleasant  early  awakening,  and  a  cold  tub  recently  en- 
joyed,— and  the  disappointment  of  not  seeing  her  had 
wrought  in  him  a  strange  foreboding.  What  if  her  nerve 
had  given  way  under  the  strain? 

They  turned  a  bend  in  the  winding  road,  and  the 
grey  turrets  of  Gleneesh  came  in  sight,  high  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  glen,  the  moor  stretching  away  be- 
hind and  above  it.  As  they  wound  up  the  valley  to 
the  moorland  road  which  would  bring  them  round  to 
the  house,  the  doctor  could  see,  in  the  clear  morning 
light,  the  broad  lawn  and  terrace  of  Gleneesh,  with 
its  gay  flower-beds,  smooth  gravelled  walks,  and  broad 
stone  parapet,  from  which  was  a  drop  almost  sheer 
down  into  the  glen  below. 

Simpson  received  him  at  the  hall  door;  and  he  just 
stopped  himself  in  time,  as  he  was  about  to  ask  for 
Miss  Champion.  This  perilous  approach  to  a  slip 
reminded  him  how  carefully  he  must  guard  words  and 
actions  in  this  house,  where  Jane  had  successfully 
steered  her  intricate  course.  He  would  never  forgive 
himself  if  he  gave  her  away. 

"Mr.  Dalmain  is  in  the  library,  Sir  Deryck, "  said 
Simpson;  and  it  was  a  very  alert,  clear-headed  doctor 
who  followed  the  man  across  the  hall. 

Garth  rose  from  his  chair  and  walked  forward  to 
meet  him,  his  right  hand  outstretched,  a  smile  of  wel- 
come on  his  face,  and  so  direct  and  unhesitating  a 
course  that  the  doctor  had  to  glance  at  the  sightless 
face  to  make  sure  that  this  lithe,  graceful,  easy-moving 
figure  was  indeed  the  blind  man  he  had  come  to  see. 


234  The  Rosary 

Then  he  noticed  a  length  of  brown  silk  cord  stretched 
from  an  arm  of  the  chair  Garth  had  quitted  to  the  door. 
Garth's  left  hand  had  slipped  lightly  along  it  as  he 
walked. 

The  doctor  put  his  hand  into  the  one  outstretched, 
and  gripped  it  warmly. 

"My  dear  fellow !    What  a  change ! ' ' 

"Isn't  it?"  said  Garth  delightedly.  "And  it  is  en- 
tirely she  who  has  worked  it, — the  capital  little  woman 
you  sent  up  to  me.  I  want  to  tell  you  how  first-rate  she 
is."  He  had  reached  his  chair  again,  and  found  and 
drew  forward  for  the  doctor  the  one  in  which  Jane 
usually  sat.  "This  is  her  own  idea. "  He  unhitched  the 
cord,  and  let  it  fall  to  the  floor,  a  fine  string  remaining 
attached  to  it  and  to  the  chair,  by  which  he  could  draw 
it  up  again  at  will.  "There  is  one  on  this  side  leading 
to  the  piano,  and  one  here  to  the  window.  Now  how 
should  you  know  them  apart?" 

"They  are  brown,  purple,  and  orange,"  replied  the 
doctor. 

"Yes, "  said  Garth.  "You  know  them  by  the  colours, 
but  I  distinguish  them  by  a  slight  difference  in  the  thick- 
ness and  in  the  texture,  which  you  could  not  see,  but 
which  I  can  feel.  And  I  enjoy  thinking  of  the  colours, 
too.  And  sometimes  I  wear  ties  and  things  to  match 
them.  You  see,  I  know  exactly  how  they  look;  and  it 
was  so  like  her  to  remember  that.  An  ordinary  nurse 
would  have  put  red,  green,  and  blue,  and  I  should  have 
sat  and  hated  the  thought  of  them,  knowing  how  vilely 
they  must  be  clashing  with  my  Persian  carpet.  But  she 
understands  how  much  colours  mean  to  me,  even  though 
I  cannot  see  them. " 

"I  conclude  that  by  'she'  you  mean  Nurse  Rose- 
mary," said  the  doctor.     "I  am  glad  she  is  a  success." 


The  Only  Way  235 

"A  success!"  exclaimed  Garth.  "Why,  she  helped 
me  to  live  again !  I  am  ashamed  to  remember  how  at  the 
bottom  of  all  things  I  was  when  you  came  up  before, 
Brand, — just  pounding  the  wall,  as  old  Robbie  expresses 
it.    You  must  have  thought  me  a  fool  and  a  coward. " 

"I  thought  you  neither,  my  dear  fellow.  You  were 
coming  through  a  stiffer  fight  than  any  of  us  have  been 
called  to  face.    Thank  God,  you  have  won. " 

"I  owe  a  lot  to  you,  Brand,  and  still  more  to  Miss 
Gray.  I  wish  she  were  here  to  see  you.  She  is  away 
for  the  week-end. " 

"Away!  J — just  now?"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  almost 
surprised  into  another  slip. 

"Yes;  she  went  last  night.  She  is  week-ending  in  the 
neighbourhood.  She  said  she  was  not  going  far,  and 
should  be  back  with  me  early  on  Monday  morning. 
But  she  seemed  to  want  a  change  of  scene,  and  thought 
this  a  good  opportunity,  as  I  shall  have  you  here  most 
of  the  time.  I  say,  Brand,  I  do  think  it  is  extraor- 
dinarily good  of  you  to  come  all  this  way  to  see  me. 
You  know,  from  such  a  man  as  yourself  it  is  almost 
overwhelming." 

"You  must  not  be  overwhelmed,  my  dear  chap; 
and,  though  I  very  truly  came  to  see  you,  I  am  also 
up,  about  another  old  friend  in  the  near  neighbourhood 
in  whom  I  am  interested.  I  only  mention  this  in  order 
to  be  quite  honest,  and  to  lift  from  off  you  any  possible 
burden  of  feeling  yourself  my  only  patient." 

"Oh,  thanks!"  said  Garth.  "It  lessens  my  com- 
punction without  diminishing  my  gratitude.  And  now 
you  must  be  wanting  a  brush  up  and  breakfast,  and 
here  am  I  selfishly  keeping  you  from  both.  And  I  say, 
Brand, " — Garth  coloured  hotly,  boyishly,  and  hesitated, 
■ — "I  am  awfully  sorry  you  will  have  no  companion  at 


236  The  Rosary 

your  meals,  Miss  Gray  being  away.  I  do  not  like  to 
think  of  you  having  them  alone,  but  I — I  always  have 
mine  by  myself.    Simpson  attends  to  them. " 

He  could  not  see  the  doctor's  quick  look  of  com- 
prehension, but  the  understanding  sympathy  of  the 
tone  in  which  he  said:  "Ah,  yes.  Yes,  of  course," 
without  further  comment,  helped  Garth  to  add:  "I 
couldn't  even  have  Miss  Gray  with  me.  We  always 
take  our  meals  apart.  You  cannot  imagine  how  awful 
it  is  chasing  your  food  all  round  your  plate,  and  never 
sure  it  is  not  on  the  cloth,  after  all,  or  on  your  tie,  while 
you  are  hunting  for  it  elsewhere. " 

"No,  I  can't  imagine,"  said  the  doctor.  "No  one 
could  who  had  not  been  through  it.  But  can  you  bear 
it  better  with  Simpson  than  with  Nurse  Rosemary? 
She  is  trained  to  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know. " 

Garth  coloured  again.  "Well,  you  see,  Simpson  is 
the  chap  who  shaves  me,  and  gets  me  into  my  clothes, 
and  takes  me  about;  and,  though  it  will  always  be  a 
trial,  it  is  a  trial  to  which  I  am  growing  accustomed. 
You  might  put  it  thus:  Simpson  is  eyes  to  my  body; 
Miss  Gray  is  vision  to  my  mind.  Simpson's  is  the  only 
touch  which  comes  to  me  in  the  darkness.  Do  you 
know,  Miss  Gray  has  never  touched  me, — not  even  to 
shake  hands.  I  am  awfully  glad  of  this.  I  will  tell  you 
why  presently,  if  I  may.  It  makes  her  just  a  mind  and 
voice  to  me,  and  nothing  more;  but  a  wonderfully  kind 
and  helpful  voice.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  live  without 
her." 

Garth  rang  the  bell  and  Simpson  appeared. 

"Take  Sir  Deryck  to  his  room;  and  he  will  tell  you 
what  time  he  would  like  breakfast.  And  when  you 
have  seen  to  it  all,  Simpson,  I  will  go  out  for  a  turn. 
Then  I  shall  be  free,  Brand,  when  you  are.     But  do 


The  Only  Way  237 

not  give  me  any  more  time  this  morning  if  you  ought 
to  be  resting,  or  out  on  the  moors  having  a  holiday  from 
minds  and  men. " 

The  doctor  tubbed  and  got  into  his  knickerbockers 
and  an  old  Norfolk  jacket;  then  found  his  way  to  the 
dining-room,  and  did  full  justice  to  an  excellent  break- 
fast. He  was  still  pondering  the  problem  of  Jane,  and 
at  the  same  time  wondering  in  another  compartment  of 
his  mind  in  what  sort  of  machine  old  Margery  made  her 
excellent  coffee,  when  that  good  lady  appeared,  en- 
veloped in  an  air  of  mystery,  and  the  doctor  immediately 
propounded  the  question. 

"A  jug,"  said  old  Margery.  "And  would  you  be 
coming  with  me,  Sir  Deryck, — and  softly, — whenever 
you  have  finished  your  breakfast?" 

"Softly,"  said  Margery  again,  as  they  crossed  the 
hall,  the  doctor's  tall  figure  closely  following  in  her 
portly  wake.  After  mounting  a  few  stairs  she  turned  to 
whisper  impressively:  "It  is  not  what  ye  make  it  in; 
it  is  how  ye  make  it."  She  ascended  a  few  more  steps, 
then  turned  to  say :  "It  all  hangs  upon  the  word  fresh, " 
and  went  on  mounting.  "Freshly  roasted — freshly 
ground — water — freshly — boiled — "  said  old  Margery, 
reaching  the  topmost  stair  somewhat  breathless;  then 
turning,  bustled  along  a  rather  dark  passage,  thickly 
carpeted,  and  hung  with  old  armour  and  pictures. 

"Where  are  we  going,  Mistress  Margery?"  asked  the 
doctor,  adapting  his  stride  to  her  trot — one  to  two. 

"You  will  be  seeing  whenever  we  get  there,  Sir 
Deryck,"  said  Margery.  "And  never  touch  it  with  metal, 
Sir  Deryck.  Pop  it  into  an  earthenware  jug,  pour  your 
boiling  water  straight  upon  it,  stir  it  with  a  wooden 
spoon,  set  it  on  the  hob  ten  minutes  to  settle;  the  grounds 
will  all  go  to  the  bottom,  though  you  might  not  think  it, 


238  The  Rosary 

and  you  pour  it  out — fragrant,  strong,  and  clear.  But 
the  secret  is,  fresh,  fresh,  fresh,  and  don't  stint  your 
coffee." 

Old  Margery  paused  before  a  door  at  the  end  of  the 
passage,  knocked  lightly;  then  looked  up  at  the  doctor 
with  her  hand  on  the  door-handle,  and  an  expression  of 
pleading  earnestness  in  her  faithful  Scotch  eyes. 

"And  you  will  not  forget  the  wooden  spoon,  Sir 
Deryck?" 

The  doctor  looked  down  into  the  kind  old  face  raised 
to  his  in  the  dim  light.  "I  will  not  forget  the  wooden 
spoon,  Mistress  Margery,"  he  said,  gravely.  And  old 
Margery,  turning  the  handle  whispered  mysteriously 
into  the  half -opened  doorway:  "It  will  be  Sir  Deryck, 
Miss  Gray,"  and  ushered  the  doctor  into  a  cosy  little 
sitting-room. 

A  bright  fire  burned  in  the  grate.  In  a  high-backed 
arm-chair  in  front  of  it  sat  Jane,  with  her  feet  on  the 
fender.  He  could  only  see  the  top  of  her  head,  and 
her  long  grey  knees;  but  both  were  unmistakably  Jane's. 

"  Oh,  Dicky ! "  she  said,  and  a  great  thankfulness  was  in 
her  voice,  "is  it  you?  Oh,  come  in,  Boy,  and  shut  the 
door.  Are  we  alone?  Come  round  here  quick  and  shake 
hands,  or  I  shall  be  plunging  about  trying  to  find  you. " 

In  a  moment  the  doctor  had  reached  the  hearth-rug, 
dropped  on  one  knee  in  front  of  the  large  chair,  and 
took  the  vaguely  groping  hands  held  out  to  him. 

"Jeanette?"  he  said.  "Jeanette!"  And  then  sur- 
prise and  emotion  silenced  him. 

Jane's  eyes  were  securely  bandaged.  A  black  silk 
scarf,  folded  in  four  thicknesses,  was  firmly  tied  at  the 
back  of  her  smooth  coils  of  hair.  There  was  a  pathetic 
helplessness  about  her  large  capable  figure,  sitting 
alone,  in  this  bright  little  sitting-room,  doing  nothing- 


The  Only  Way  239 

"Jeanette!"  said  the  doctor,  for  the  third  time. 
"And  you  call  this  week-ending?" 

"Dear,"  said  Jane,  "I  have  gone  into  Sightless 
Land  for  my  week-end.  Oh,  Deryck,  I  had  to  do  it. 
The  only  way  really  to  help  him  is  to  know  exactly 
what  it  means,  in  all  the  small,  trying  details.  I  never 
had  much  imagination,  and  I  have  exhausted  what 
little  I  had.  And  he  never  complains,  or  explains  how 
things  come  hardest.  So  the  only  way  to  find  out,  is  to 
have  forty-eight  hours  of  it  one's  self.  Old  Margery  and 
Simpson  quite  enter  into  it,  and  are  helping  me  splen- 
didly. Simpson  keeps  the  coast  clear  if  we  want  to  come 
down  or  go  out;  because  with  two  blind  people  about,  it 
would  be  a  complication  if  they  ran  into  one  another. 
Margery  helps  me  with  all  the  things  in  which  I  am  help- 
less; and,  oh  Dicky,  you  would  never  believe  how  many 
they  are!  And  the  awful,  awful  dark — a  black  curtain 
always  in  front  of  you,  sometimes  seeming  hard  and  firm, 
like  a  wall  of  coal,  within  an  inch  of  your  face;  sometimes 
sinking  away  into  soft  depths  of  blackness — miles  and 
miles  of  distant,  silent,  horrible  darkness;  until  you  feel 
you  must  fall  forward  into  it  and  be  submerged  and  over- 
whelmed. And  out  of  that  darkness  come  voices. 
And  if  they  speak  loudly,  they  hit  you  like  tapping 
hammers ;  and  if  they  murmur  indistinctly,  they  madden 
you  because  you  can't  see  what  is  causing  it.  You  can't 
see  that  they  are  holding  pins  in  their  mouths,  and  that 
therefore  they  are  mumbling;  or  that  they  are  half  under 
the  bed,  trying  to  get  out  something  which  has  rolled 
there,  and  therefore  the  voice  seems  to  come  from  some- 
where beneath  the  earth.  And,  because  you  cannot  see 
these  things  to  account  for  it,  the  variableness  of  sound 
torments  you.  Ah! — and  the  waking  in  the  morning  to 
the  same  blackness  as  you  have  had  all  night!    I  have 


240  The  Rosary- 
experienced  it  just  once, — I  began  my  darkness  before 
dinner  last  night, — and  I  assure  you,  Deryck,  I  dread 
to-morrow  morning.  Think  what  it  must  be  to  wake  to 
that  always,  with  no  prospect  of  ever  again  seeing  the 
sunlight!    And  then  the  meals " 

"What!  You  keep  it  on?"  The  doctor's  voice 
sounded  rather  strained. 

"Of  course,"  said  Jane.  "And  you  cannot  imagine 
the  humiliation  of  following  your  food  all  round  the 
plate,  and  then  finding  it  on  the  table-cloth;  of  being 
quite  sure  there  was  a  last  bit  somewhere,  and  when 
you  had  given  up  the  search  and  gone  on  to  another 
course,  discovering  it,  eventually,  in  your  lap.  I  do 
not  wonder  my  poor  boy  would  not  let  me  come  to 
his  meals.  But  after  this  I  believe  he  will,  and  I  shall 
know  exactly  how  to  help  him  and  how  to  arrange  so 
that  very  soon  he  will  have  no  difficulty.  Oh,  Dicky,  I 
had  to  do  it!    There  was  no  other  way." 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor  quietly,  "you  had  to  do  it." 
And  Jane  in  her  blindness  could  not  see  the  working 
of  his  face,  as  he  added  below  his  breath:  "You  being 
you,  dear,  there  was  no  other  way." 

"Ah,  how  glad  I  am  you  realise  the  necessity,  Deryck! 
I  had  so  feared  you  might  think  it  useless  or  foolish. 
And  it  was  now  or  never;  because  I  trust — if  he  forgives 
me — this  will  be  the  only  week-end  I  shall  ever  have  to 
spend  away  from  him.  Boy,  do  you  think  he  will  forgive 
me?" 

It  was  fortunate  Jane  was  blind.  The  doctor  swal- 
lowed a  word,  then:  "Hush,  dear,"  he  said.  "You 
make  me  sigh  for  the  duchess's  parrot.  And  I  shall 
do  no  good  here,  if  I  lose  patience  with  Dalmain.  Now 
tell  me;  you  really  never  remove  that  bandage?" 

"Only  to  wash  my  face,"  replied  Jane,  smiling.     "I 


The  Only  Way  241 

can  trust  myself  not  to  peep  for  two  minutes.  And 
last  night  I  found  it  made  my  head  so  hot  that  I  could 
not  sleep;  so  I  slipped  it  off  for  an  hour  or  two,  but  woke 
and  put  it  on  again  before  dawn. " 

"And  you  mean  to  wear  it  until  to-morrow  morning?" 

Jane  smiled  rather  wistfully.  She  knew  what  was 
involved  in  that  question. 

"Until  to-morrow  night,  Boy,"  she  answered  gently. 

"But,  Jeanette, "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  in  indignant 
protest;  "surely  you  will  see  me  before  I  go!  My 
dear  girl,  would  it  not  be  carrying  the  experiment 
unnecessarily  far?" 

"Ah,  no,"  said  Jane,  leaning  towards  him  with  her 
pathetic  bandaged  eyes.  "Don't  you  see,  dear,  you 
give  me  the  chance  of  passing  through  what  will  in 
time  be  one  of  his  hardest  experiences,  when  his  dearest 
friends  will  come  and  go,  and  be  to  him  only  voice  and 
touch;  their  faces  unseen  and  but  dimly  remembered? 
Deryck,  just  because  this  hearing  and  not  seeing  you  is 
so  hard,  I  realise  how  it  is  enriching  me  in  what  I  can 
share  with  him.  He  must  not  have  to  say:  'Ah,  but 
you  saw  him  before  he  left.'  I  want  to  be  able  to  say: 
'He  came  and  went, — my  greatest  friend, — and  I  did  not 
see  him  at  all.' 

The  doctor  walked  over  to  the  window  and  stood 
there,  whistling  softly.  Jane  knew  he  was  fighting 
down  his  own  vexation.  She  waited  patiently.  Pre- 
sently the  whistling  stopped  and  she  heard  him  laugh. 
Then  he  came  back  and  sat  down  near  her. 

"You  always  were  a  thorough  old  thing!"  he  said. 
"  No  half-measures  would  do.    I  suppose  I  must  agree. " 

Jane  reached  out  for  his  hand.    "Ah,  Boy, "  she  said, 
"now  you  will  help  me.    But  I  never  before  knew  you  so 
nearly  selfish." 
16 


242  The  Rosary 

"The  'other  man'  is  always  a  problem,"  said  the 
doctor.  "We  male  brutes,  by  nature,  always  want 
to  be  first  with  all  our  women;  not  merely  with  the 
one,  but  with  all  those  in  whom  we  consider,  some- 
times with  egregious  presumption,  that  we  hold  a  right. 
You  see  it  everywhere, — fathers  towards  their  daughters, 
brothers  as  regards  their  sisters,  friends  in  a  friendship. 
The  'other  man,'  when  he  arrives,  is  always  a  pill  to 
swallow.  It  is  only  natural,  I  suppose;  but  it  is  fallen 
nature  and  therefore  to  be  surmounted.  Now  let  me  go 
and  forage  for  your  hat  and  coat,  and  take  you  out  upon 
the  moors.  No?  Why  not?  I  often  find  things  for 
Flower,  so  really  I  know  likely  places  in  which  to  search. 
Oh,  all  right!  I  will  send  Margery.  But  don't  be  long. 
And  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  Dalmain  hearing  us,  for  I 
saw  him  just  now  walking  briskly  up  and  down  the 
terrace,  with  only  an  occasional  touch  of  his  cane  against 
the  parapet.  How  much  you  have  already  accomplished ! 
We  shall  talk  more  freely  out  on  the  moor;  and,  as  I 
march  you  along,  we  can  find  out  tips  which  may  be 
useful  when  the  time  comes  for  you  to  lead  the  'other 
man'  about.  Only  do  be  careful  how  you  come  down- 
stairs with  old  Margery.  Think  if  you  fell  upon  her, 
Jane!    She  does  make  such  excellent  coffee!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   MAN'S    POINT   OF   VIEW 

A  DEEP  peace  reigned  in  the  library  at  Gleneesh. 
Garth  and  Deryck  sat  together  and  smoked  in 
complete  fellowship,  enjoying  that  sense  of  calm  con- 
tent which  follows  an  excellent  dinner  and  a  day  spent 
in  moorland  air. 

Jane,  sitting  upstairs  in  her  self-imposed  darkness, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  listen,  fancied  she  could  hear 
the  low  hum  of  quiet  voices  in  the  room  beneath,  carrying 
on  a  more  or  less  continuous  conversation. 

It  was  a  pity  she  could  not  see  them  as  they  sat 
together,  each  looking  his  very  best, — Garth  in  the 
dinner  jacket  which  suited  his  s  ight  upright  figure  so 
well;  the  doctor  in  immaculate  evening  clothes  of  the 
latest  cut  and  fashion,  which  he  had  taken  the  trouble 
to  bring,  knowing  Jane  expected  the  men  of  her  ac- 
quaintance to  be  punctilious  in  the  matter  of  evening 
dress,  and  little  dreaming  she  would  have,  literally,  no 
eyes  for  him. 

And  indeed  the  doctor  himself  was  fastidious  to  a 
degree  where  clothes  were  concerned,  and  always  well 
groomed  and  unquestionably  correct  in  cut  and  fashion, 
excepting  in  the  case  of  his  favourite  old  Norfolk  jacket. 
This  he  kept  for  occasions  when  he  intended  to  be  what 
he  called  "happy  and  glorious,"  though  Lady  Brand 
made  gentle  but  persistent  attempts  to  dispose  of  it. 

The  old  Norfolk  jacket  had  walked  the  moors  that 
morning  with  Jane.  She  had  recognised  the  feel  of  it 
as  he  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm,  and  they  had 

243 


244  The  Rosary 

laughed  over  its  many  associations.  But  now  Simpson 
was  folding  it  and  putting  it  away,  and  a  very  correctly 
clad  doctor  sat  in  an  arm-chair  in  front  of  the  library 
fire,  his  long  legs  crossed  the  one  over  the  other,  his 
broad  shoulders  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  chair. 

Garth  sat  where  he  could  feel  the  warm  flame  of  the 
fire,  pleasant  in  the  chill  evening  which  succeeded  the 
bright  spring  day.  His  chair  was  placed  sideways, 
so  that  he  could,  with  his  hand,  shield  his  face  from 
his  visitor  should  he  wish  to  do  so. 

"Yes,"  Dr.  Brand  was  saying  thoughtfully,  "I  can 
easily  see  that  all  things  which  reach  you  in  that  dark- 
ness assume  a  different  proportion  and  possess  a  greatly 
enhanced  value.  But  I  think  you  will  find,  as  time  goes 
on,  and  you  come  in  contact  with  more  people,  there  will 
be  a  great  readjustment,  and  you  will  become  less 
consciously  sensitive  to  sound  and  touch  from  others. 
At  present  your  whole  nervous  system  is  highly  strung, 
and  responds  with  an  exaggerated  vibration  to  every 
impression  made  upon  it.  A  highly  strung  nervous  sys- 
tem usually  exaggerates.  And  the  medium  of  sight 
having  been  taken  away,  the  other  means  of  communica- 
tion with  the  outer  world,  hearing  and  touch,  draw  to 
themselves  an  overplus  of  nervous  force,  and  have  be- 
come painfully  sensitive.  Eventually  things  will  right 
themselves,  and  they  will  only  be  usefully  keen  and  acute. 
What  was  it  you  were  going  to  tell  me  about  Nurse 
Rosemary  not  shaking  hands?" 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Garth.  "But  first  I  want  to  ask,  Is 
it  a  rule  of  her  order,  or  guild,  or  institution,  or  whatever 
it  is  to  which  she  belongs,  that  the  nurses  should  never 
shake  hands  with  their  patients?" 

"Not  that  I  have  ever  heard, "  replied  the  doctor. 

"Well,   then,   it  must  have  been   Miss  Gray's  own 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  245 

perfect  intuition  as  to  what  I  want,  and  what  I  don't 
want.  For  from  the  very  first  she  has  never  shaken 
hands,  nor  in  any  way  touched  me.  Even  in  passing 
across  letters,  and  handing  me  things,  as  she  does 
scores  of  times  daily,  never  once  have  I  felt  her  fingers 
against  mine." 

"And  this  pleases  you?"  inquired  the  doctor,  blowing 
smoke  rings  into  the  air,  and  watching  the  blind  face 
intently. 

"Ah,  I  am  so  grateful  for  it,"  said  Garth  earnestly. 
"Do  you  know,  Brand,  when  you  suggested  sending 
me  a  lady  nurse  and  secretary,  I  felt  I  could  not  possibly 
stand  having  a  woman  touch  me. " 

"So  you  said,  "  commented  the  doctor  quietly. 

"No!  Did  I?  What  a  bear  you  must  have  thought 
me." 

"By  no  means,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  a  distinctly 
unusual  patient.    As  a  rule,  men " 

"Ah,  I  dare  say,"  Garth  interposed  half  impatiently. 
"There  was  a  time  when  I  should  have  liked  a  soft  little 
hand  about  me.  And  I  dare  say  by  now  I  should  often 
enough  have  caught  it  and  held  it,  perhaps  kissed  it — 
who  knows?  I  used  to  do  such  things,  lightly  enough. 
But,  Brand,  when  a  man  has  known  the  touch  of  The 
Woman,  and  when  that  touch  has  become  nothing  but  a 
memory;  when  one  is  dashed  into  darkness,  and  that 
memory  becomes  one  of  the  few  things  which  remain, 
and,  remaining,  brings  untold  comfort,  can  you  won- 
der if  one  fears  another  touch  which  might  in  any  way 
dim  that  memory,  supersede  it,  or  take  away  from  its 
utter  sacredness?" 

"I  understand,"  said  the  doctor  slowly.  "It  does 
not  come  within  my  own  experience,  but  I  under- 
stand.     Only — my   dear   boy,   may   I   say   it? — if   the 


246  The  Rosary 

One  Woman  exists — and  it  is  excusable  in  your  case  to 
doubt  it,  because  there  were  so  many — surely  her  place 
should  be  here ;  her  actual  touch,  one  of  the  things  which 
remain." 

"Ah,  say  it,"  answered  Garth,  lighting  another 
cigarette.  "I  like  to  hear  it  said,  although  as  a  matter 
of  fact  you  might  as  well  say  that  if  the  view  from  the 
terrace  exists,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  see  it.  The  view  is 
there,  right  enough,  but  my  own  deficiency  keeps  me 
from  seeing  it." 

"In  other  words,"  said  the  doctor,  leaning  forward 
and  picking  up  the  match  which,  not  being  thrown  so 
straight  as  usual,  had  just  missed  the  fire;  "in  other 
words,  though  She  was  the  One  Woman,  you  were  not 
the  One  Man?" 

"Yes,"  said  Garth  bitterly,  but  almost  beneath  his 
breath.    "I  was  ' a  mere  boy. '  " 

"Or  you  thought  you  were  not,"  continued  the 
doctor,  seeming  not  to  have  heard  the  last  remark. 
"As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  are  always  the  One  Man  to 
the  One  Woman,  unless  another  is  before  you  in  the 
field.  Only  it  may  take  time  and  patience  to  prove  it  to 
her." 

Garth  sat  up  and  turned  a  face  of  blank  surprise 
towards  the  doctor.  "What  an  extraordinary  state- 
ment!" he  said.    " Do  you  really  mean  it?" 

"Absolutely,"  replied  the  doctor  in  a  tone  of  quiet 
conviction.  "If  you  eliminate  all  other  considerations, 
such  as  money,  lands,  titles,  wishes  of  friends,  attraction 
of  exteriors — that  is  to  say,  admiration  of  mere  physical 
beauty  in  one  another,  which  is  after  all  just  a  question 
of  comparative  anatomy;  if,  freed  of  all  this  social  and 
habitual  environment,  you  could  place  the  man  and  the 
woman  in  a  mental  Garden  of  Eden,  and  let  them  face 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  247 

one  another,  stripped  of  all  shams  and  conventionalities, 
soul  viewing  soul,  naked  and  unashamed;  if  under  those 
circumstances  she  is  so  truly  his  mate,  that  all  the  noblest 
of  the  man  cries  out :  '  This  is  the  One  Woman ! '  then  I 
say,  so  truly  is  he  her  mate,  that  he  cannot  fail  to  be  the 
One  Man;  only  he  must  have  the  confidence  required  to 
prove  it  to  her.  On  him  it  bursts,  as  a  revelation ;  on  her 
it  dawns  slowly,  as  the  breaking  of  the  day. " 

"Oh,  my  God,"  murmured  Garth  brokenly,  "it  was 
just  that!  The  Garden  of  Eden,  soul  to  soul,  with 
no  reservations,  nothing  to  fear,  nothing  to  hide.  I 
realised  her  my  wife,  and  called  her  so.  And  the  next 
morning  she  called  me  'a  mere  boy,'  whom  she  could 
not  for  a  moment  think  of  marrying.  So  what  becomes 
of  your  fool  theory,  Brand?" 

"Confirmed,"  replied  the  doctor  quietly.  "Eve, 
afraid  of  the  immensity  of  her  bliss,  doubtful  of  her- 
self, fearful  of  coming  short  of  the  marvel  of  his  ideal  of 
her,  fleeing  from  Adam,  to  hide  among  the  trees  of  the 
garden.  Don't  talk  about  fool  theories,  my  boy.  The 
fool-fact  was  Adam,  if  he  did  not  start  in  prompt 
pursuit. " 

Garth  sat  forward,  his  hands  clutching  the  arms  of 
his  chair.  That  quiet,  level  voice  was  awakening  doubts 
as  to  his  view  of  the  situation,  the  first  he  had  had  since 
the  moment  of  turning  and  walking  down  the  Shenstone 
village  church  three  years  ago.  His  face  was  livid,  and 
as  the  firelight  played  upon  it  the  doctor  saw  beads  of 
perspiration  gleam  on  his  forehead. 

"Oh,  Brand,"  he  said,  "I  am  blind.  Be  merciful. 
Things  mean  so  terribly   much   in   the   dark." 

The  doctor  considered.  Could  his  nurses  and  students 
have  seen  the  look  on  his  face  at  that  moment,  they 
would  have  said  that  he  was  performing  a  most  critical 


248  The  Rosary 

and  delicate  operation,  in  which  a  slip  of  the  scalpel 
might  mean  death  to  the  patient.  They  would  have 
been  right;  for  the  whole  future  of  two  people  hung  in 
the  balance;  depending,  in  this  crisis,  upon  the  doctor's 
firmness  and  yet  delicacy  of  touch.  This  strained  white 
face  in  the  firelight,  with  its  beads  of  mental  agony  and 
its  appealing  "I  am  blind,"  had  not  entered  into  the 
doctor's  calculations.  It  was  a  view  of  "the  other  man" 
upon  which  he  could  not  look  unmoved.  But  the 
thought  of  that  patient  figure  with  bandaged  eyes  sitting 
upstairs  in  suspense,  stretching  dear  helpless  hands  to 
him,  steadied  the  doctor's  nerve.     He  looked  into  the  fire. 

"You  may  be  blind,  Dalmain,  but  I  do  not  want 
you  to  be  a  fool, "  said  the  doctor  quietly. 

"Am  I — was  I — a  fool?"  asked  Garth. 

"How  can  I  judge?"  replied  the  doctor.  "Give  me 
a  clear  account  of  the  circumstances  from  your  point 
of  view,  and  I  will  give  you  my  opinion  of  the  case." 

His  tone  was  so  completely  dispassionate  and  matter- 
of-fact,  that  it  had  a  calming  effect  on  Garth,  giving  him 
also  a  sense  of  security.  The  doctor  might  have  been 
speaking  of  a  sore  throat,  or  a  tendency  to  sciatica. 

Garth  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  slipped  his  hand  into 
the  breast-pocket  of  his  jacket,  and  touched  a  letter 
lying  there.  Dare  he  risk  it?  Could  he,  for  once  take 
for  himself  the  comfort  of  speaking  of  his  trouble 
to  a  man  he  could  completely  trust,  and  yet  avoid  the 
danger  of  betraying  her  identity  to  one  who  knew  her 
so  intimately? 

Garth  weighed  this,  after  the  manner  of  a  chess- 
player looking  several  moves  ahead.  Could  the  con- 
versation become  more  explicit,  sufficiently  so  to  be  of 
use,  and  yet  no  clue  be  given  which  would  reveal  Jane 
as  the  One  Woman? 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  249 

Had  the  doctor  uttered  a  word  of  pressure  or  sug- 
gestion, Garth  would  have  decided  for  silence.  But 
the  doctor  did  not  speak.  He  leaned  forward  and 
reached  the  poker,  mending  the  fire  with  extreme  care 
and  method.  He  placed  a  fragrant  pine  log  upon  the 
springing  flame,  and  as  he  did  so  he  whistled  softly  the 
closing  bars  of  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus. 

Garth,  occupied  with  his  own  mental  struggle,  was, 
for  once,  oblivious  to  sounds  from  without,  and  did 
not  realise  why,  at  this  critical  moment,  these  words 
should  have  come  with  gentle  insistence  into  his  mind: 

"Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home; 
Where  Thou  art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come. " 

He  took  them  as  an  omen.    They  turned  the  scale. 

"Brand,"  he  said,  "if,  as  you  are  so  kind  as  to  sug- 
gest, I  give  myself  the  extreme  relief  of  confiding  in  you, 
will  you  promise  me  never  to  attempt  to  guess  at  the 
identity  of  the  One  Woman?" 

The  doctor  smiled;  and  the  smile  in  his  voice  as  he 
answered,  added  to  Garth's  sense  of  security. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "I  never  guess  at  other 
people's  secrets.  It  is  a  form  of  mental  recreation 
which  does  not  appeal  to  me,  and  which  I  should  find 
neither  entertaining  nor  remunerative.  If  I  know 
them  already,  I  do  not  require  to  guess  them.  If  I 
do  not  know  them,  and  their  possessors  wish  me  to 
remain  in  ignorance,  I  would  as  soon  think  of  stealing 
their  purse  as  of  filching  their  secret. " 

"Ah,  thanks,"  said  Garth.  "Personally,  I  do  not 
mind  what  you  know.  But  I  owe  it  to  her,  that  her 
name  should  not   appear." 

"Undoubtedly,"  said  the  doctor.     "Except  in  so  far 


250  The  Rosary 

as  she  herself  chooses  to  reveal  it,  the  One  Woman's 
identity  should  always  remain  a  secret.  Get  on  with 
your  tale,  old  chap.    I  will  not  interrupt." 

"I  will  state  it  as  simply  and  as  shortly  as  I  can," 
began  Garth.  "And  you  will  understand  that  there 
are  details  of  which  no  fellow  could  speak. — I  had 
known  her  several  years  in  a  friendly  way,  just  staying 
at  the  same  houses,  and  meeting  at  Lord's  and  Henley 
and  all  the  places  where  those  in  the  same  set  do  meet. 
I  always  liked  her,  and  always  felt  at  my  best  with  her, 
and  thought  no  end  of  her  opinion,  and  so  forth.  She 
was  a  friend  and  a  real  chum  to  me,  and  to  lots  of  other 
fellows.  But  one  never  thought  of  love-making  in  con- 
nection with  her.  All  the  silly  things  one  says  to  ordi- 
nary women  she  would  have  laughed  at.  If  one  had  sent 
her  flowers  to  wear,  she  would  have  put  them  in  a  vase 
and  wondered  for  whom  they  had  really  been  intended. 
She  danced  well,  and  rode  straight;  but  the  man  she 
danced  with  had  to  be  awfully  good  at  it,  or  he  found 
himself  being  guided  through  the  giddy  maze;  and  the 
man  who  wanted  to  be  in  the  same  field  with  her,  must 
be  prepared  for  any  fence  or  any  wall.  Not  that  I  ever 
saw  her  in  the  hunting-field;  her  love  of  life  and  of 
fair  play  would  have  kept  her  out  of  that.  But  I  use 
it  as  a  descriptive  illustration.  One  was  always  glad 
to  meet  her  in  a  house  party,  though  one  could  not 
have  explained  why.  It  is  quite  impossible  to  describe 
her.    She  was  just — well,  just " 

The  doctor  saw  "just  Jane"  trembling  on  Garth's 
lips,  and  knew  how  inadequate  was  every  adjective  to 
express  this  name.  He  did  not  want  the  flood  of  Garth's 
confidences  checked,  so  he  supplied  the  needed  words, 
"Just  a  good  sort.    Yes,  I  quite  understand.    Well?" 

"I  had  had  my  infatuations,  plenty  of  them,"  went 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  251 

on  the  eager  young  voice.  "The  one  thing  I  thought 
of  in  women  was  their  exteriors.  Beauty  of  all  kinds 
— of  any  kind — crazed  me  for  the  moment.  I  never 
wanted  to  marry  them,  but  I  always  wanted  to  paint 
them.  Their  mothers,  and  aunts,  and  other  old  dowagers 
in  the  house  parties  used  to  think  I  meant  marriage, 
but  the  girls  themselves  knew  better.  I  don't  believe 
a  girl  now  walks  this  earth  who  would  accuse  me  of 
flirting.  I  admired  their  beauty,  and  they  knew  it,  and 
they  knew  that  was  all  my  admiration  meant.  It  was  a 
pleasant  experience  at  the  time,  and,  in  several  instances, 
helped  forward  good  marriages  later  on.  Pauline  Lister 
was  apportioned  to  me  for  two  whole  seasons,  but  she 
eventually  married  the  man  on  whose  jolly  old  staircase 
I  painted  her.  Why  didn't  I  come  a  cropper  over  any  of 
them?  Because  there  were  too  many,  I  suppose.  Also, 
the  attraction  was  skin-deep.  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
quite  frankly :  the  only  one  whose  beauty  used  to  cause 
me  a  real  pang  was  Lady  Brand.  But  when  I  had 
painted  it  and  shown  it  to  the  world  in  its  perfection,  I 
was  content.  I  asked  no  more  of  any  woman  than  to 
paint  her,  and  find  her  paintable.  I  could  not  explain 
this  to  the  husbands  and  mothers  and  chaperons,  but 
the  women  themselves  understood  it  well  enough;  and 
as  I  sit  here  in  my  darkness  not  a  memory  rises  up  to 
reproach  me. " 

"Good  boy,"  said  Deryck  Brand,  laughing.  "You 
were  vastly  misunderstood,  but  I  believe  you." 

"You  see,"  resumed  Garth,  "that  sort  of  thing 
being  merely  skin-deep,  I  went  no  deeper.  The  only 
women  I  really  knew  were  my  mother,  who  died  when 
I  was  nineteen,  and  Margery  Graem,  whom  I  always 
hugged  at  meeting  and  parting,  and  always  shall  hug 
until  I  kiss  the  old  face  in  its  coffin,  or  she  straightens 


252  The  Rosary 

me  in  mine.  Those  ties  of  one's  infancy  and  boyhood 
are  among  the  closest  and  most  sacred  life  can  show. 
Well,  so  things  were  until  a  certain  evening  in  June 
several  years  ago.  She — the  One  Woman — and  I  were 
in  the  same  house  party  at  a  lovely  old  place  in  the 
country.  One  afternoon  we  had  been  talking  intimately, 
but  quite  casually  and  frankly.  I  had  no  more  thought 
of  wanting  to  marry  her  than  of  proposing  to  old  Mar- 
gery. Then — something  happened, — I  must  not  tell  you 
what;  it  would  give  too  clear  a  clue  to  her  identity.  But 
it  revealed  to  me,  in  a  few  marvellous  moments,  the 
woman  in  her;  the  wife,  the  mother;  the  strength,  the 
tenderness;  the  exquisite  perfection  of  her  true,  pure 
soul.  In  five  minutes  there  awakened  in  me  a  hunger  for 
her  which  nothing  could  still,  which  nothing  ever  will 
still,  until  I  stand  beside  her  in  the  Golden  City,  where 
they  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more;  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  darkness,  or  depending  upon  sun, 
moon,  or  candle,  for  the  glory  of  God  shall  lighten  it ;  and 
there  shall  be  no  more  sorrow,  neither  shall  there  be  any 
more  pain,  for  former  things  shall  have  passed  away. " 

The  blind  face  shone  in  the  firelight.  Garth's  retro- 
spection was  bringing  him  visions  of  things  to  come. 

The  doctor  sat  quite  still  and  watched  the  vision  fade. 
Then  he  said:  "Well?" 

"Well,"  continued  the  young  voice  in  the  shadow, 
with  a  sound  in  it  of  having  dropped  back  to  earth 
and  finding  it  a  mournful  place ;  "  I  never  had  a  moment's 
doubt  as  to  what  had  happened  to  me.  I  knew  I  loved 
her;  I  knew  I  wanted  her;  I  knew  her  presence  made  my 
day  and  her  absence  meant  chill  night;  and  every  day 
was  radiant,  for  she  was  there. " 

Garth  paused  for  breath  and  to  enjoy  a  moment  of 
silent  retrospection. 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  253 

The  doctor's  voice  broke  in  with  a  question,  clear, 
incisive.  "Was  she  a  pretty  woman;  handsome,  beau- 
tiful?" 

"A  pretty  woman? "  repeated  Garth,  amazed.  " Good 
heavens,  no!  Handsome?  Beautiful?  Well  you  have 
me  there,  for,  'pon  my  honour,  I  don't  know." 

"I  mean,  would  you  have  wished  to  paint  her?" 

"I  have  painted  her,"  said  Garth  very  low,  a  mov- 
ing tenderness  in  his  voice;  "and  my  two  paintings  of 
her,  though  done  in  sadness  and  done  from  memory, 
are  the  most  beautiful  work  I  ever  produced.  No  eye 
but  my  own  has  ever  seen  them,  and  now  none  ever 
will  see  them,  excepting  those  of  one  whom  I  must  per- 
force trust  to  find  them  for  me,  and  bring  them  to  me  for 
destruction." 

"And  that  will  be — ?"  queried  the  doctor. 

"Nurse  Rosemary  Gray,  "  said  Garth. 

The  doctor  kicked  the  pine  log,  and  the  flames  darted 
up  merrily.  "You  have  chosen  well,"  he  said,  and  had 
to  make  a  conscious  effort  to  keep  the  mirth  in  his  face 
from  passing  into  his  voice.  "Nurse  Rosemary  will  be 
discreet.  Very  good.  Then  we  may  take  it  the  One 
Woman  was  beautiful?" 

But  Garth  looked  perplexed.  "I  do  not  know,"  he 
answered  slowly.  "I  cannot  see  her  through  the  eyes 
of  others.  My  vision  of  her,  in  that  illuminating  mo- 
ment, followed  the  inspired  order  of  things, — spirit, 
soul,  and  body.  Her  spirit  was  so  pure  and  perfect, 
her  soul  so  beautiful,  noble,  and  womanly,  that  the 
body  which  clothed  soul  and  spirit  partook  of  their 
perfection  and  became  unutterably  dear. " 

"I  see,"  said  the  doctor,  very  gently.  "Yes,  you 
dear  fellow,  I  see."  (Oh,  Jane,  Jane!  You  were  blind, 
without  a  bandage,  in  those  days !) 


254  The  Rosary 

"Several  glorious  days  went  by,"  continued  Garth. 
"I  realise  now  that  I  was  living  in  the  glow  of  my  own 
certainty  that  she  was  the  One  Woman.  It  was  so 
clear  and  sweet  and  wonderful  to  me,  that  I  never 
dreamed  of  it  not  being  equally  clear  to  her.  We  did 
a  lot  of  music  together  for  pure  enjoyment;  we  talked 
of  other  people  for  the  fun  of  it;  we  enjoyed  and  appre- 
ciated each  other's  views  and  opinions;  but  we  did  not 
talk  of  ourselves,  because  we  knew, — at  least  /  knew, 
and,  before  God,  I  thought  she  did.  Every  time  I  saw 
her  she  seemed  more  grand  and  perfect.  I  held  the 
golden  key  to  trifling  matters  not  understood  before. 
We  young  fellows,  who  all  admired  her,  used  never- 
theless to  joke  a  bit  about  her  wearing  collars  and 
stocks,  top  boots  and  short  skirts;  whacking  her  leg 
with  a  riding-whip,  and  stirring  the  fire  with  her  toe. 
But  after  that,  evening,  I  understood  all  this  to  be  a 
sort  of  fence  behind  wliich  she  hid  her  exquisite  woman- 
liness, because  it  was  of  a  deeper  quality  than  any  man 
looking  upon  the  mere  surface  of  her  had  ever  fathomed 
or  understood.  And  when  she  came  trailing  down  in  the 
evening,  in  something  rich  and  clinging  and  black,  with 
lots  of  soft  old  lace  covering  her  bosom  and  moving  with 
the  beating  of  her  great  tender  heart;  ah,  then  my  soul 
rejoiced  and  my  eyes  took  their  fill  of  delight !  I  saw  her, 
as  all  day  long  I  had  known  her  to  be, — perfect  in  her 
proud,  sweet  womanliness." 

"Is  he  really  unconscious,"  thought  the  doctor, 
"of  how  unmistakable  a  word-picture  of  Jane  he  is 
painting?" 

"Very  soon,"  continued  Garth,  "we  had  three  days 
apart,  and  then  met  again  at  another  house,  in  a  week- 
end party.  One  of  the  season's  beauties  was  there, 
with  whom  my  name  was  being  freely  coupled,   and 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  255 

something  she  said  on  that  subject,  combined  witn 
the  fearful  blankness  of  those  three  interminable  dayst 
made  me  resolve  to  speak  without  delay.  I  asked  her 
to  come  out  on  to  the  terrace  that  evening.  We  were 
alone.    It  was  a  moonlight  night. " 

A  long  silence.  The  doctor  did  not  break  it.  He 
knew  his  friend  was  going  over  in  his  mind  all  those 
things  of  which  a  man  does  not  speak  to  another  man. 

At  last  Garth  said  simply,  "I  told  her." 

No  comment  from  the  doctor,  who  was  vividly  re= 
minded  of  Jane's  "Then — it  happened,"  when  she  had 
reached  this  point  in  the  story.  After  a  few  moments 
of  further  silence,  steeped  in  the  silver  moonlight  of 
reminiscence  for  Garth;  occupied  by  the  doctor  in  a 
rapid  piecing  in  of  Jane's  version;  the  sad  young  voice 
continued : 

"I  thought  she  understood  completely.  Afterwards 
I  knew  she  had  not  understood  at  all.  Her  actions 
led  me  to  believe  I  was  accepted,  taken  into  her  great 
love,  even  as  she  was  wrapped  around  by  mine.  Not 
through  fault  of  hers, — ah,  no ;  she  was  blameless  through- 
out; but  because  she  did  not,  could  not,  understand 
what  any  touch  of  hers  must  mean  to  me.  In  her  dear 
life,  there  had  never  been  another  man;  that  much  I 
knew  by  unerring  instinct  and  by  her  own  admission, 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  she  may  have  had  an 
ideal  in  her  girlish  days,  against  whom,  in  after  years,  she- 
measured  others,  and,  finding  them  come  short,  held 
them  at  arm's  length.  But,  if  I  am  right  in  this  surmise, 
he  must  have  been  a  blind  fool,  unconscious  of  the  price= 
less  love  which  might  have  been  his,  had  he  tried  to  win 
it.  For  I  am  certain  that,  until  that  night,  no  man's  love 
had  ever  flamed  about  her;  she  had  never  felt  herself 
enveloped  in  a  cry  which  was  all  one  passionate,  in= 


256  The  Rosary 

articulate,  inexplicable,  boundless  need  of  herself.  While 
1  thought  she  understood  and  responded, — Heaven 
knows  I  did  think  it, — she  did  not  in  the  least  under- 
stand, and  was  only  trying  to  be  sympathetic  and  kind. " 

The  doctor  stirred  in  his  chair,  slowly  crossed  one 
leg  over  the  other,  and  looked  searchingly  into  the 
blind  face.  He  was  finding  these  confidences  of  the 
64 other  man"  more  trying  than  he  had  expected. 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  he  asked  rather  huskily. 

"Quite  sure,"  said  Garth.  "Listen.  I  called  her — 
what  she  was  to  me  just  then,  what  I  wanted  her  to 
be  always,  what  she  is  forever,  so  far  as  my  part  goes, 
and  will  be  till  death  and  beyond.  That  one  word, — 
no,  there  were  two, — those  two  words  made  her  under- 
stand. I  see  that  now.  She  rose  at  once  and  put  me 
from  her.  She  said  I  must  give  her  twelve  hours  for 
quiet  thought,  and  she  would  come  to  me  in  the  village 
church  next  morning  with  her  answer.  Brand,  you  may 
think  me  a  fool;  you  cannot  think  me  a  more  egregious 
ass  than  I  now  think  myself;  but  I  was  absolutely 
certain  she  was  mine;  so  sure  that,  when  she  came,  and 
we  were  alone  together  in  the  house  of  God,  instead  of 
going  to  her  with  the  anxious  haste  of  suppliant  and  lover, 
I  called  her  to  me  at  the  chancel  step  as  if  I  were  indeed 
her  husband  and  had  the  right  to  bid  her  come.  She 
came,  and,  just  as  a  sweet  formality  before  taking  her  to 
me,  I  asked  for  her  answer.  It  was  this : '  I  cannot  marry 
a  mere  boy.'  " 

Garth's  voice  choked  in  his  throat  on  the  last  word. 
His  head  was  bowed  in  his  hands.  He  had  reached 
the  point  where  most  things  stopped  for  him;  where 
all  things  had  ceased  forever  to  be  as  they  were  before. 

The  room  seemed  strangely  silent.  The  eager  voice 
Jbad  poured  out  into  it  such  a  flow  of  love  and  hope 


The  Man's  Point  of  View  257 

and  longing;  such  a  revealing  of  a  soul  in  which  the 
true  love  of  beauty  had  created  perpetual  youth;  of  a 
heart  held  free  by  high  ideals  from  all  playing  with 
lesser  loves,  but  rising  to  volcanic  force  and  height  when 
the  true  love  was  found  at  last. 

The  doctor  shivered  at  that  anticlimax,  as  if  the 
chill  of  an  empty  church  were  in  his  bones.  He  knew 
how  far  worse  it  had  been  than  Garth  had  told.  He 
knew  of  the  cruel,  humiliating  question:  "How  old 
are  you?"  Jane  had  confessed  to  it.  He  knew  how 
the  outward  glow  of  adoring  love  had  faded  as  the 
mind  was  suddenly  turned  inward  to  self-contemplationo 
He  had  known  it  all  as  abstract  fact.  Now  he  saw  it 
actually  before  him.  He  saw  Jane's  stricken  lovers 
bowed  beside  him  in  his  blindness,  living  again  through 
those  sights  and  sounds  which  no  merciful  curtain  of 
oblivion  could  ever  hide  or  veil. 

The  doctor  had  his  faults,  but  they  were  not  Peter's, 
He  never,  under  any  circumstances,  spoke  because  he 
wist  not  what  to  say. 

He  leaned  forward  and  laid  a  hand  very  tenderly 
on  Garth's  shoulder.  "Poor  chap,"  he  said.  "AhB 
poor  old  chap. " 

And  for  a  long  while  they  sat  thus  in  silence. 

17 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   DOCTOR'S   DIAGNOSIS 

!,Q0  you  expressed  no  opinion?  explained  nothing?  let 

O  him  go  on  believing  that?  Oh,  Dicky!  And  you 
might  have  said  so  much! " 

In  the  quiet  of  the  Scotch  Sabbath  morning,  Jane 
and  the  doctor  had  climbed  the  winding  path  from 
the  end  of  the  terrace,  which  zigzagged  up  to  a  clearing 
amongst  the  pines.  Two  fallen  trees  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  each  other  provided  convenient  seats  in 
full  sunshine,  facing  a  glorious  view, — down  into  the 
glen,  across  the  valley,  and  away  to  the  purple  hills 
beyond.  The  doctor  had  guided  Jane  to  the  sunnier 
of  the  two  trunks,  and  seated  himself  beside  her.  Then 
he  had  quietly  recounted  practically  the  whole  of  the 
conversation  of  the  previous  evening. 

"I  expressed  no  opinion.  I  explained  nothing.  I 
let  him  continue  to  believe  what  he  believes,  because 
it  is  the  only  way  to  keep  you  on  the  pinnacle  where 
he  has  placed  you.  Let  any  other  reason  for  your 
conduct  than  an  almost  infantine  ignorance  of  men 
and  things  be  suggested  and  accepted,  and  down  you 
will  come,  my  poor  Jane,  and  great  will  be  the  fall. 
Mine  shall  not  be  the  hand  thus  to  hurl  you  headlong. 
As  you  say,  I  might  have  said  so  much,  but  I  might 
also  have  lived  to  regret  it." 

"I  should  fall  into  his  arms,"  said  Jane  recklessly, 
"'and  I  would  sooner  be  there  than  on  a  pinnacle. " 

"Excuse  me,  my  good  girl,"  replied  the  doctor.  "It 
is  more  likely  you  would  fall  into  the  first  express  going 

258 


The  Doctor's  Diagnosis  259 

south.  In  fact,  I  am  not  certain  you  would  wait  for  an 
express.  I  can  almost  see  the  Honourable  Jane  quitting 
yonder  little  railway  station,  seated  in  an  empty  coal- 
truck.  No !  Don't  start  up  and  attempt  to  stride  about 
among  the  pine  needles,"  continued  the  doctor,  pulling 
Jane  down  beside  him  again.  "You  will  only  trip  over  a 
fir  cone  and  go  headlong  into  the  valley.  It  is  no  use 
forestalling  the  inevitable  fall. " 

"Oh,  Dicky,"  sighed  Jane,  putting  her  hand  through 
his  arm,  and  leaning  her  bandaged  eyes  against  the 
rough  tweed  of  his  shoulder;  "I  don't  know  what  has 
come  to  you  to-day.  You  are  not  kind  to  me.  You  have 
harrowed  my  poor  soul  by  repeating  all  Garth  said  last 
night;  and,  thanks  to  that  terribly  good  memory  of  yours, 
you  have  reproduced  the  tones  of  his  voice  in  every  inflec- 
tion. And  then,  instead  of  comforting  me,  you  leave  me 
entirely  in  the  wrong,  and  completely  in  the  lurch." 

"In  the  wrong — yes,"  said  Deryck;  "in  the  lurch 
— no.  I  did  not  say  I  would  do  nothing  to-day.  I 
only  said  I  could  do  nothing  last  night.  You  cannot 
take  up  a  wounded  thing  and  turn  it  about  and  analyse 
it.  When  we  bade  each  other  good-night,  I  told  him  I 
would  think  the  matter  over  and  give  him  my  opinion 
to-day.  I  will  tell  you  what  has  happened  to  me  if  you 
like.  I  have  looked  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  a  very 
rare  and  beautiful  nature,  and  I  have  seen  what  havoc  a 
woman  can  work  in  the  life  of  the  man  who  loves  her.  I 
can  assure  you,  last  night  was  no  pastime.  I  woke  this 
morning  feeling  as  if  I  had,  metaphorically,  been  beaten 
black  and  blue." 

"Then  what  do  you  suppose  I  feel?"  inquired  Jane 
pathetically. 

"You  still  feel  yourself  in  the  right — partly,"  replied 
Deryck.     "And  so  long  as  you  think  you  have  a  particle 


s6o  The  Rosary 

of  justification  and  cling  to  it,  your  case  is  hopeless.  It 
will  have  to  be:  'I  confess.    Can  you  forgive?'  " 

"But  I  acted  for  the  best,"  said  Jane.  "I  thought 
of  him  before  I  thought  of  myself.  It  would  have  been 
far  easier  to  have  accepted  the  happiness  of  the  moment, 
and  chanced  the  future." 

"That  is  not  honest,  Jeanette.  You  thought  of 
yourself  first.  You  dared  not  face  the  possibility  of 
the  pain  to  you  if  his  love  cooled  or  his  admiration 
waned.  When  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  every 
form  of  human  love — a  mother's  only  excepted — is 
primarily  selfish.  The  best  chance  for  Dalmain  is  that 
his  helpless  blindness  may  awaken  the  mother  love  in 
you.    Then  self  will  go  to  the  wall. " 

"Ah  me!"  sighed  Jane.  "I  am  lost  and  weary  and 
perplexed  in  this  bewildering  darkness.  Nothing  seems 
clear;  nothing  seems  right.  If  I  could  see  your  kind  eyes, 
Boy,  your  hard  voice  would  hurt  less. " 

"  Well,  take  off  the  bandage  and  look, "  said  the  doctor. 

"I  will  not!"  cried  Jane  furiously.  "Have  I  gone 
through  all  this  to  fail  at  the  last?" 

"My  dear  girl,  this  self-imposed  darkness  is  getting 
on  your  nerves.  Take  care  it  does  not  do  more  harm 
than  good.    Strong  remedies " 

" Hush!"  whispered  Jane.    " I  hear  footsteps. " 

"You  can  always  hear  footsteps  in  a  wood  if  you 
hearken  for  them,"  said  the  doctor;  but  he  spoke  low, 
and  then  sat  quiet,  listening. 

"  I  hear  Garth's  step, "  whispered  Jane.  "  Oh,  Dicky, 
go  to  the  edge  and  look  over.  You  can  see  the  windings 
of  the  path  below. " 

The  doctor  stepped  forward  quietly  and  looked  down 
upon  the  way  they  had  ascended.  Then  he  came  back 
to  Jane. 


The  Doctor's  Diagnosis  2611 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Fortune  favours  us.  Dalmain 
is  coming  up  the  path  with  Simpson.  He  will  be 
here  in  two  minutes." 

"Fortune  favours  us?  My  dear  Dicky!  Of  all  mis= 
chances!"  Jane's  hand  flew  to  her  bandage,  but  the 
doctor  stayed  her  just  in  time. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "And  do  not  fail  at  the  last 
in  your  experiment.  I  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  you  two 
blind  people  apart.  Trust  me,  and  keep  dark — I  mean, 
sit  still.  And  can  you  not  understand  why  I  said  fortune 
favours  us?  Dalmain  is  coming  for  my  opinion  on  the 
case.  You  shall  hear  it  together.  It  will  be  a  saving  of 
time  for  me,  and  most  enlightening  for  you  to  mark  how 
he  takes  it.  Now  keep  quiet.  I  promise  he  shall  not  sit 
on  your  lap.  But  if  you  make  a  sound,  I  shall  have  to  say 
you  are  a  bunny  or  a  squirrel,  and  throw  fir  cones  at  you. " 

The  doctor  rose  and  sauntered  round  the  bend  of  the 
path. 

Jane  sat  on  in  darkness. 

"Hullo,  Dalmain,"  she  heard  Deryck  say.  "Found 
your  way  up  here?  An  ideal  spot.  Shall  we  dispense 
with  Simpson?    Take  my  arm. " 

"Yes,"  replied  Garth.  "I  was  told  you  were  up 
here,  Brand,  and  followed  you." 

They  came  round  the  bend  together,  and  out  into  the 
clearing. 

"Are  you  alone?"  asked  Garth  standing  still.  "I 
thought   I   heard  voices." 

"You  did,"  replied  the  doctor.  "I  was  talking  to  si 
young  woman." 

"What  sort  of  young  woman?"  asked  Garth. 

"A  buxom  young  person,"  replied  the  doctor,  "with 
a  decidedly  touchy  temper." 

" Do  you  know  her  name?" 


262  The  Rosary 

"  Jane, "  said  the  doctor  recklessly. 

"Not  'Jane,'  "  said  Garth  quickly, — "Jean.  I  know 
her, — my  gardener's  eldest  daughter.  Rather  weighed 
down  by  family  cares,  poor  girl." 

"I  saw  she  was  weighed  down,"  said  the  doctor. 
"'I  did  not  know  it  was  by  family  cares.  Let  us  sit 
on  this  trunk.    Can  you  call  up  the  view  to  mind?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Garth;  "I  know  it  so  well.  But  it 
terrifies  me  to  find  how  my  mental  pictures  are  fading; 
all  but  one." 

"And  that  is — ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"The  face  of  the  One  Woman,"  said  Garth  in  his 
blindness. 

"Ah,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  have  not 
forgotten  my  promise  to  give  you  this  morning  my 
opinion  on  your  story.  I  have  been  thinking  it  over 
carefully,  and  have  arrived  at  several  conclusions. 
Shall  we  sit  on  this  fallen  tree?  Won't  you  smoke? 
One  can  talk  better  under  the  influence  of  the  fragrant 
weed." 

Garth  took  out  his  cigarette  case,  chose  a  cigarette, 
lighted  it  with  care,  and  flung  the  flaming  match  straight 
on  to  Jane's  clasped  hands. 

Before  the  doctor  could  spring  up,  Jane  had  smilingly 
flicked  it  off. 

"What  nerve!"  thought  Deryck,  with  admiration. 
"Ninety-nine  women  out  of  a  hundred  would  have 
said  'Ah!'  and  given  away  the  show.  Really,  she 
deserves  to  win." 

Suddenly  Garth  stood  up.  "I  think  we  shall  do 
better  on  the  other  log,"  he  said  unexpectedly.  "It 
is  always  in  fuller  sunshine."  And  he  moved  towards 
Jane. 

With  a  bound  the  doctor  sprang  in  front  of  him. 


The  Doctor's  Diagnosis  263 

seized  Jane  with  one  strong  hand  and  drew  her  behind 
him;  then  guided  Garth  to  the  very  spot  where  she  had 
been  sitting. 

"How  accurately  you  judge  distance,"  he  remarked, 
backing  with  Jane  towards  the  further  trunk.  Then 
he  seated  himself  beside  Garth  in  the  sunshine.  "Now 
for  our  talk,"  said  the  doctor,  and  he  said  it  rather 
breathlessly. 

"Are  you  sure  we  are  alone?"  asked  Garth.  "I 
seem  conscious  of  another  presence. " 

"My  dear  fellow, "  said  the  doctor,  "is  one  ever  alone 
in  a  wood?  Countless  little  presences  surround  us. 
Bright  eyes  peep  down  from  the  branches;  furry  tails 
flick  in  and  out  of  holes ;  things  unseen  move  in  the  dead 
leaves  at  our  feet.    If  you  seek  solitude,  shun  the  woods. " 

"Yes,"  replied  Garth,  "I  know,  and  I  love  listening 
to  them.  I  meant  a  human  presence.  Brand,  I  am 
often  so  tried  by  the  sense  of  an  unseen  human  presence 
near  me.  Do  you  know,  I  could  have  sworn  the  other 
day  that  she — the  One  Woman — came  silently,  looked 
upon  me  in  my  blindness,  pitied  me,  as  her  great  tender 
heart  would  do,  and  silently  departed." 

"When  was  that?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"A  few  days  ago.  Dr.  Rob  had  been  telling  us  how 
he  came  across  her  in —  Ah!  I  must  not  say  where. 
Then  he  and  Miss  Gray  left  me  alone,  and  in  the  lonely 
darkness  and  silence  I  felt  her  eyes  upon  me. " 

"Dear  boy,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  must  not  en- 
courage this  dread  of  unseen  presences.  Remember, 
those  who  care  for  us  very  truly  and  deeply  can  often 
make  us  conscious  of  their  mental  nearness,  even  when 
far  away,  especially  if  they  know  we  are  in  trouble  and 
needing  them.  You  must  not  be  surprised  if  you  are 
often  conscious  of  the  nearness  of  the  One  Woman,  for 


264  The  Rosary 

I  believe — and  I  do  not  say  it  lightly,  Dalmain — I 
believe  her  whole  heart  and  love  and  life  are  yours. " 

"Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  Garth,  and  springing  up, 
strode  forward  aimlessly. 

The  doctor  caught  him  by  the  arm.  In  another 
moment  he  would  have  fallen  over  Jane's  feet. 

"Sit  down,  man,"  said  the  doctor,  "and  listen  to  me. 
You  gain  nothing  by  dashing  about  in  the  dark  in  that 
way.  I  am  going  to  prove  my  words.  But  you  must  give 
me  your  calm  attention.  Now  listen.  We  are  confronted 
in  this  case  by  a  psychological  problem,  and  one  which  very 
likely  has  not  occurred  to  you.  I  want  you  for  a  moment 
to  picture  the  One  Man  and  the  One  Woman  facing  each 
other  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  or  in  the  moonlight — wher- 
ever it  was — if  you  like  better.  Now  will  you  realise  this? 
The  effect  upon  a  man  of  falling  in  love  is  to  create  in  him 
a  complete  unconsciousness  of  self.  On  the  other  hand* 
the  effect  upon  a  woman  of  being  loved  and  sought,  and 
of  responding  to  that  love  and  seeking,  is  an  accession 
of  intense  self-consciousness.  He,  longing  to  win  and 
take,  thinks  of  her  only.  She,  called  upon  to  yield  and 
give,  has  her  mind  turned  at  once  upon  herself.  Can  she 
meet  his  need?  Is  she  all  he  thinks  her?  Will  she  be 
able  to  content  him  completely,  not  only  now  but  in  the 
long  vista  of  years  to  come?  The  more  natural  and  un- 
conscious of  self  she  had  been  before,  the  harder  she 
would  be  hit  by  this  sudden,  overwhelming  attack  of 
self-consciousness. " 

The  doctor  glanced  at  Jane  on  the  log  six  yards  away. 
She  had  lifted  her  clasped  hands  and  was  nodding 
towards  him,  her  face  radiant  with  relief  and  thankfulness. 

He  felt  he  was  on  the  right  tack.  But  the  blind  face 
beside  him  clouded  heavily,  and  the  cloud  deepened  as  he 
proceeded. 


The  Doctor's  Diagnosis  265 

"You  see,  my  dear  chap,  I  gathered  from  yourself  she 
was  not  of  the  type  of  feminine  loveliness  you  were  known 
to  admire.  Might  she  not  have  feared  that  her  appear- 
ance would,  after  a  while,  have  failed  to  content  you?" 

"No,"  replied  Garth  with  absolutely  finality  of  tone. 
"Such  a  suggestion  is  unworthy.  Besides,  had  the 
idea  by  any  possibility  entered  her  mind,  she  would 
only  have  had  to  question  me  on  the  point.  My  decision 
would  have  been  final;  my  answer  would  have  fully 
reassured' her. " 

"Love  is  blind,"  quoted  the  doctor  quietly. 

"They  lie  who  say  so,"  cried  Garth  violently.  "Love 
is  so  far-seeing  that  it  sees  beneath  the  surface  and 
delights  in  beauties  unseen  by  other  eyes." 

"Then  you  do  not  accept  my  theory?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"Not  as  an  explanation  of  my  own  trouble, "  answered 
Garth;  "because  I  know  the  greatness  of  her  nature 
would  have  lifted  her  far  above  such  a  consideration. 
But  I  do  indeed  agree  as  to  the  complete  oblivion  to  self 
of  the  man  in  love.  How  else  could  we  ever  venture  to 
suggest  to  a  woman  that  she  should  marry  us?  Ah, 
Brand,  when  one  thinks  of  it, — the  intrusion  into  her 
privacy;  the  asking  the  right  to  touch,  even  her  hand,  at 
will ; — it  could  not  be  done  unless  the  love  of  her  and  the 
thought  of  her  had  swept  away  all  thoughts  of  self. 
Locking  back  upon  that  time  I  remember  how  com- 
pletely it  was  so  with  me.  And  when  she  said  to  me 
in  the  church:  'How  old  are  you?' — ah,  I  did  not  tell 
you  that  last  night — the  revulsion  of  feeling  brought 
about  by  being  turned  at  that  moment  in  upon  myself 
was  so  great,  that  my  joy  seemed  to  shrivel  and  die  in 
horror  at  my  own  un worthiness. " 

Silence  in  the  wood.    The  doctor  felt  he  was  playing  a 


266  The  Rosary- 

losing  game.     He  dared  not  look  at  the  silent  figure 
opposite.    At  last  he  spoke. 

"Dalmain,  there  are  two  possible  solutions  to  your 
problem.  Do  you  think  it  was  a  case  of  Eve  hold- 
ing back  in  virginal  shyness,  expecting  Adam  to 
pursue?" 

"Ah,  no,"  said  Garth  emphatically.  "We  had  gone 
far  beyond  all  that.  Nor  could  you  suggest  it,  did  you 
know  her.  She  is  too  honest,  too  absolutely  straight  and 
true,  to  have  deceived  me.  Besides,  had  it  been  so,  in 
all  these  lonely  years,  when  she  found  I  made  no  sign, 
she  would  have  sent  me  word  of  what  she  really  meant. " 

"Should  you  have  gone  to  her  then?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"Yes,"  said  Garth  slowly.  "I  should  have  gone 
and  I  should  have  forgiven — because  she  is  my  own. 
But  it  could  never  have  been  the  same.  It  would  have 
been  unworthy  of  us  both. " 

"Well,"  continued  the  doctor,  "the  other  solution 
remains.  You  have  admitted  that  the  One  Woman 
came  somewhat  short  of  the  conventional  standard 
of  beauty.  Your  love  of  loveliness  was  so  well  known. 
Do  you  not  think,  during  the  long  hours  of  that  night, 
— remember  how  new  it  was  to  her  to  be  so  worshipped 
and  wanted, — do  you  not  think  her  courage  failed  her? 
She  feared  she  might  come  short  of  what  eventually 
you  would  need  in  the  face  and  figure  always  opposite 
you  at  your  table;  and,  despite  her  own  great  love  and 
yours,  she  thought  it  wisest  to  avoid  future  disillusion  by 
rejecting  present  joy.  Her  very  love  for  you  would  have 
armed  her  to  this  decision. " 

The  silent  figure  opposite  nodded,  and  waited  with 
clasped  hands.  Deryck  was  pleading  her  cause  better 
than  she  could  have  pleaded  it  herself. 


The  Doctors  Diagnosis  267 

Silence  in  the  woods.  All  nature  seemed  to  hush  and 
listen  for  the  answer. 

Then: — "No,"  said  Garth's  young  voice  unhesitat- 
ingly. "In  that  case  she  would  have  told  me  her  fear, 
and  I  should  have  reassured  her  immediately.  Your 
suggestion  is  unworthy  of  my  beloved. " 

The  wind  sighed  in  the  trees.  A  cloud  passed  before 
the  sun.  The  two  who  sat  in  darkness,  shivered  and 
were  silent. 

Then  the  doctor  spoke.  "My  dear  boy,"  he  said, 
and  a  deep  tenderness  was  in  his  voice:  "I  must  main- 
tain my  unalterable  belief  that  to  the  One  Woman 
you  are  still  the  One  Man.  In  your  blindness  her 
rightful  place  is  by  your  side.  Perhaps  even  now  she 
is  yearning  to  be  here.  Will  you  tell  me  her  name, 
and  give  me  leave  to  seek  her  out,  hear  from  herself 
her  version  of  the  story;  and,  if  it  be  as  I  think,  bring 
her  to  you,  to  prove,  in  your  affliction,  her  love  and 
tenderness?" 

"Never!"  said  Garth.  "Never,  while  life  shall  last! 
Can  you  not  see  that  if  when  I  had  sight,  and  fame, 
and  all  heart  could  desire,  I  could  not  win  her  love, 
what  she  might  feel  for  me  now,  in  my  helpless  blind- 
ness, could  be  but  pity?  And  pity  from  her  I  could 
never  accept.  If  I  was  'a  mere  boy'  three  years  ago, 
I  am  'a  mere  blind  man'  now,  an  object  for  kind  com- 
miseration. If  indeed  you  are  right,  and  she  mistrusted 
my  love  and  my  fidelity,  it  is  now  out  of  my  p-^wer 
forever  to  prove  her  wrong  and  to  prove  myself  faithful. 
But  I  will  not  allow  the  vision  of  my  beloved  to  be 
dimmed  by  these  suggestions.  For  her  completion,  she 
needed  so  much  more  than  I  could  give.  She  refused  me 
because  I  was  not  fully  worthy.  I  prefer  it  should  be  so. 
Let  us  leave  it  at  that. " 


268  The  Rosary 

"It  leaves  you  to  loneliness, "  said  the  doctor  sadly. 

"I  prefer  loneliness,"  replied  Garth's  young  voice9 
"to  disillusion.  Hark!  I  hear  the  first  gong,  Brand. 
Margery  will  be  grieved  if  we  keep  her  Sunday  dishes 
waiting." 

He  stood  up  and  turned  his  sightless  face  towards  the 
view. 

"Ah,  how  well  I  know  it,"  he  said.  "When  Miss 
Gray  and  I  sit  up  here,  she  tells  me  all  she  sees,  and 
I  tell  her  what  she  does  not  see,  but  what  I  know  is 
there.  She  is  keen  on  art,  and  on  most  of  the  things 
I  care  about.  I  must  ask  for  an  arm,  Brand,  though 
the  path  is  wide  and  good.  I  cannot  risk  a  tumble.  I 
have  come  one  or  two  awful  croppers,  and  I  promised 
Miss  Gray —  The  path  is  wide.  Yes,  we  can  walk  two 
abreast,  three  abreast  if  necessary.  It  is  well  we  had 
this  good  path  made.     It  used  to  be  a  steep  scramble." 

"Three  abreast,"  said  the  doctor.  "So  we  could — 
if  necessary."  He  stepped  back  and  raised  Jane  from 
her  seat,  drawing  her  cold  hand  through  his  left  arm. 
"Now,  my  dear  fellow,  my  right  arm  will  suit  you  best; 
then  you  can  keep  your  stick  in  your  right  hand. " 

And  thus  they  started  down  through  the  wood,  on 
that  lovely  Sabbath  morn  of  early  summer;  and  the 
doctor  walked  erect  between  those  two  severed  hearts, 
uniting,  and  yet  dividing  them. 

Just  once  Garth  paused  and  listened.  "I  seem  to 
hear  another  footstep,"   he  said,    "besides  yours  and 


mine." 


"The  wood  is  full  of  footsteps,"  said  the  doctor, 
"just  as  the  heart  is  full  of  echoes.  If  you  stand  still 
and  listen,  you  can  hear  what  you  will  in  either. " 

"Then  let  us  not  stand  still,"  said  Garth,  "for  in  old 
days,  if  I  was  late  for  lunch,  Margery  used  to  spank  me.  " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

HEARTS   MEET   IN    SIGHTLESS   LAND 

"TT  will  be  absolutely  impossible,  Miss  Gray,  for  me 

1  ever  to  tell  you  what  I  think  of  this  that  you  have 
done  for  my  sake." 

Garth  stood  at  the  open  library  window.  The  morn- 
ing sunlight  poured  into  the  room.  The  air  was  fragrant 
with  the  scent  of  flowers,  resonant  with  the  songs  of 
birds.  As  he  stood  there  in  the  sunshine,  a  new  look 
of  strength  and  hopefulness  was  apparent  in  every  line  of 
his  erect  figure.  He  held  out  eager  hands  towards  Nurse 
P.osemary,  but  more  as  an  expression  of  the  outgoing 
of  his  appreciation  and  gratitude  than  with  any  expecta- 
tion of  responsive  hands  being  placed  within  them. 

"And  here  was  I,  picturing  you  having  a  gay  week- 
end, and  wondering  where,  and  who  your  friends  in 
this  neighbourhood  could  be.  And  all  the  while  you 
were  sitting  blindfold  in  the  room  over  my  head.  Ah,  the 
goodness  of  it  is  beyond  words!  But  did  you  not  feel 
somewhat  of  a  deceiver,  Miss  Gray?" 

She  always  felt  that — poor  Jane.  So  she  readily 
answered:  "Yes.  And  yet  I  told  you  I  was  not  going 
far.  And  my  friends  in  the  neighbourhood  were  Simpson 
and  Margery,  who  aided  and  abetted.  And  it  was  true 
to  say  I  was  going,  for  was  I  not  going  into  darkness? 
and  it  is  a  different  world  from  the  land  of  light. " 

"Ah,  how  true  that  is!"  cried  Garth.  "And  how 
difficult  to  make  people  understand  the  loneliness  of  it, 
and  how  they  seem  suddenly  to  arrive  close  to  one  from 
another  world;  stooping  from  some  distant  planet,  with 

269 


270  The  Rosary 

sympathetic  voice  and  friendly  touch;  and  then  away 
they  go  to  another  sphere,  leaving  one  to  the  immensity 
of  solitude  in  Sightless  Land. " 

"Yes,"  agreed  Nurse  Rosemary,  "and  you  almost 
dread  the  coming,  because  the  going  makes  the  darkness 
darker,  and  the  loneliness  more  lonely. " 

"Ah,  so  you  experienced  that?"  said  Garth.  "Do 
you  know,  now  you  have  week-ended  in  Sightless  Land, 
I  shall  not  feel  it  such  a  place  of  solitude.  At  every  turn 
I  shall  be  able  to  say:  'A  dear  and  faithful  friend  has 
been  here.'  " 

He  laughed  a  laugh  of  such  almost  boyish  pleasure, 
that  all  the  mother  in  Jane's  love  rose  up  and  demanded 
of  her  one  supreme  effort.  She  looked  at  the  slight 
figure  in  white  flannels,  leaning  against  the  window 
frame,  so  manly,  so  beautiful  still,  and  yet  so  helpless 
and  so  needing  the  wealth  of  tenderness  which  was  hers 
to  give.  Then,  standing  facing  him,  she  opened  her  arms, 
as  if  the  great  preparedness  of  that  place  of  rest,  so  close 
to  him  must,  magnet-like,  draw  him  to  her;  and  standing 
thus  in  the  sunlight,  Jane  spoke. 

Was  she  beautiful?  Was  she  paintable?  Would  a 
man  grow  weary  of  such  a  look  turned  on  him,  of  such 
arms  held  out?  Alas!  Too  late!  On  that  point  no 
lover  shall  ever  be  able  to  pass  judgment.  That  look  is 
for  one  man  alone.  He  only  will  ever  bring  it  to  that 
loving  face.  And  he  cannot  pronounce  upon  its  beauty 
in  voice  of  rapturous  content.  He  cannot  judge.  He 
cannot  see.    He  is  blind ! 

"Mr.  Dalmain,  there  are  many  smaller  details;  but 
before  we  talk  of  those  I  want  to  tell  you  the  greatest 
of  all  the  lessons  I  learned  in  Sightless  Land."  Then, 
conscious  that  her  ei,  otion  was  producing  in  her  voice 
a  resonant  depth  which  might  remind  him  too  vividly 


Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land      271 

of  notes  in  The  Rosary,  she  paused,  and  resumed  in 
the  high,  soft  edition  of  her  own  voice  which  it  had 
become  second  nature  to  her  to  use  as  Nurse  Rose- 
mary: "Mr.  Dalmain,  it  seems  to  me  I  learned  to  under- 
stand how  that  which  is  loneliness  unspeakable  to  one 
might  be  Paradise  of  a  very  perfect  kind  for  two.  I 
realised  that  there  might  be  circumstances  in  which  the 
dark  would  become  a  very  wonderful  meeting-place  for 
souls.  If  I  loved  a  man  who  lost  his  sight,  I  should  be 
glad  to  have  mine  in  order  to  be  eyes  for  him  when  eyes 
were  needed;  just  as,  were  I  rich  and  he  poor,  I  should 
value  my  money  simply  as  a  thing  which  might  be  useful 
to  him.  But  I  know  the  daylight  would  often  be  a  trial 
to  me,  because  it  would  be  something  he  could  not  share; 
and  when  evening  came,  I  should  long  to  say: '  Let  us  put 
out  the  lights  and  shut  away  the  moonlight  and  sit  to- 
gether in  the  sweet  soft  darkness,  which  is  more  uniting 
than  the  light.' " 

While  Jane  was  speaking,  Garth  paled  as  he  listened, 
and  his  face  grew  strangely  set.  Then,  as  if  under  a 
reaction  of  feeling,  a  boyish  flush  spread  to  the  very 
roots  of  his  hair.  He  visibly  shrank  from  the  voice 
which  was  saying  these  things  to  him.  He  fumbled 
with  his  right  hand  for  the  orange  cord  which  would 
guide  him  to  his  chair. 

"Nurse  Rosemary,"  he  said,  and  at  the  tone  of  his 
voice  Jane's  outstretched  arms  dropped  to  her  sides; 
"it  is  kind  of  you  to  tell  me  all  these  beautiful  thoughts 
which  came  to  you  in  the  darkness.  But  I  hope  the 
man  who  is  happy  enough  to  possess  your  love,  or 
who  is  going  to  be  fortunate  enough  to  win  it,  will 
neither  be  so  unhappy  nor  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose 
his  sight.  It  will  be  better  for  him  to  live  with  you 
:n  the  light,  than  to  be  called  upon  to  prove  the  kind 


272  The  Rosary 

way  in  which  you  would  be  willing  to  adapt  yourself 
to  his  darkness.  How  about  opening  our  letters?"  He 
slipped  his  hand  along  the  orange  cord  and  walked  over 
to  his  chair. 

Then,  with  a  sense  of  unutterable  dismay,  Jane  saw 
what  she  had  done.  She  had  completely  forgotten 
Nurse  Rosemary,  using  her  only  as  a  means  of  awak- 
ening in  Garth  an  understanding  of  how  much  her — ■ 
Jane's — love  might  mean  to  him  in  his  blindness.  She 
had  forgotten  that,  to  Garth,  Nurse  Rosemary's  was  the 
only  personality  which  counted  in  this  conversation; 
she,  who  had  just  given  him  such  a  proof  of  her  interest 
and  devotion.  And — 0  poor  dear  Garth!  0  bold, 
brazen  Nurse  Rosemary ! — he  very  naturally  concluded 
she  was  making  love  to  him.  Jane  felt  herself  between 
Scylla  and  Charybdis,  and  she  took  a  very  prompt  and 
characteristic  plunge. 

She  came  across  to  her  place  on  the  other  side  of  the 
small  table  and  sat  down.  "I  believe  it  was  the  thought 
of  him  made  me  realise  this, "  she  said;  "but  just  now  I 
and  my  young  man  have  fallen  out.  He  does  not  even 
know  I  am  here." 

Garth  unbent  at  once,  and  again  that  boyish  height- 
ening of  colour  indicated  his  sense  of  shame  at  what 
he  had  imagined. 

"Ah,  Miss  Gray, "  he  said  eagerly,  "  you  will  not  think  it 
impertinent  or  intrusive  on  my  part ,  but  do  you  know  I  have 
wondered  sometimes  whether  there  was  a  happy  man." 

Nurse  Rosemary  laughed.  "Well,  we  can't  call 
him  a  happy  man  just  now,"  she  said,  "so  far  as  his 
thoughts  of  me  are  concerned.  My  whole  heart  is 
his,  if  he  could  only  be  brought  to  believe  it.  But  a 
misunderstanding  has  grown  up  between  us, — my  fault 
entirely, — and  he  will  not  allow  me  to  put  it  right. " 


Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land      273 


<<  ■ 


'What   a  fool!"    cried   Garth.      "Are   you   and   he 
engaged?" 

Nurse  Rosemary  hesitated.  "Well — not  exactly  en- 
gaged, "  she  said,  "though  it  practically  amounts  to  that. 
Neither  of  us  would  give  a  thought  to  any  one  else. " 

Garth  knew  there  was  a  class  of  people  whose  pre- 
liminary step  to  marriage  was  called  "keeping  com- 
pany," a  stage  above  the  housemaid's  "walking  out," 
both  expressions  being  exactly  descriptive  of  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case;  for, — whereas  pretty  Phyllis 
and  her  swain  go  walking  out  of  an  evening  in  byways 
and  between  hedges,  or  along  pavements  and  into  the 
parks, — these  keep  each  other  company  in  the  parlours 
and  arbours  of  their  respective  friends  and  relations. 
Yet,  somehow,  Garth  had  never  thought  of  Nurse  Rose- 
mary as  belonging  to  any  other  class  than  his  own.  Per- 
haps this  ass  of  a  fellow,  whom  he  already  cordially 
disliked,  came  of  a  lower  stratum;  or  perhaps  the  rules 
of  her  nursing  guild  forbade  a  definite  engagement,  but 
allowed  "an  understanding."  Anyway  the  fact  re- 
mained that  the  kind-hearted,  clever,  delightful  little 
lady,  who  had  done  so  much  for  him,  had  "a  young  man" 
of  her  own;  and  this  admitted  fact  lifted  a  weight  from 
Garth's  mind.  He  had  been  so  afraid  lately  of  not  being 
quite  honest  with  her  and  with  himself.  She  had  become 
so  necessary  to  him,  nay,  so  essential,  and  by  her  skill 
and  devotion  had  won  so  deep  a  place  in  his  gratitude. 
Their  relation  was  of  so  intimate  a  nature,  their  com- 
panionship so  close  and  continuous ;  and  into  this  rather 
ideal  state  of  things  had  heavily  trodden  Dr.  Rob  the 
other  day  with  a  suggestion.  Garth,  alone  with  him,  had 
been  explaining  how  indispensable  Miss  Gray  had  be- 
come to  his  happiness  and  comfort,  and  how  much  he 
dreaded  a  recall  from  her  matron. 
18 


274  The  Rosary 

"I  fear  they  do  not  let  them  go  on  indefinitely  at 
one  case;  but  perhaps  Sir  Deryck  can  arrange  that 
this  should  be  an  exception,"   said   Garth. 

"Oh,  hang  the  matron,  and  blow  Sir  Deryck,"  said 
Dr.  Rob  breezily.  "If  you  want  her  as  a  permanency, 
make  sure  of  her.  Marry  her,  my  boy!  I'll  warrant 
she'd  have  you!" 

Thus  trod  Dr.  Rob,  with  heavily  nailed  boots,  upon 
the  bare  toes  of  a  delicate  situation. 

Garth  tried  to  put  the  suggestion  out  of  his  mind 
and  failed.  He  began  to  notice  thoughts  and  plans 
of  Nurse  Rosemary's  for  his  benefit,  which  so  far  ex- 
ceeded her  professional  duties  that  it  seemed  as  if  there 
must  be  behind  them  the  promptings  of  a  more  tender 
interest.  He  put  the  thought  away  again  and  again, 
calling  Dr.  Rob  an  old  fool,  and  himself  a  conceited  ass. 
But  again  and  again  there  came  about  him,  with  Nurse 
Rosemary's  presence,  the  subtile  surrounding  atmosphere 
of  a  watchful  love. 

Then,  one  night,  he  faced  and  fought  a  great 
temptation. 

After  all  why  should  he  not  do  a£  Dr.  Rob  suggested? 
Why  not  marry  this  charming,  capable,  devoted  nurse, 
and  have  her  constantly  about  him  in  his  blindness? 
She  did  not  consider  him  "a  mere  boy."  .  .  .  What 
had  he  to  offer  her?  A  beautiful  home,  every  luxury, 
abundant  wealth,  a  companionship  she  seemed  to  find 
congenial.  ...  But  then  the  Tempter  overreached  him- 
self, for  he  whispered:  "And  the  voice  would  be  always 
Jane's.  You  have  never  seen  the  nurse's  face;  you  never 
will  see  it.  You  can  go  on  putting  to  the  voice  the  face 
and  form  you  adore.  You  can  marry  the  little  nurse, 
and  go  on  loving  Jane."  .  .  .  Then  Garth  cried  out  in 
'Avaunt,  Satan!"  and  the  battle  was  won. 


Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land      275 

But  it  troubled  his  mind  lest  by  any  chance  her 
peace  of  heart  should  be  disturbed  through  him.  So 
it  was  with  relief,  and  yet  with  an  unreasonable  smould- 
ering jealousy,  that  he  heard  of  the  young  man  to  whom 
she  was  devoted.  And  now  it  appeared  she  was  unhappy 
through  her  young  man,  just  as  he  was  unhappy  through 
— no,  because  of — Jane. 

A  sudden  impulse  came  over  him  to  do  away  forever 
with  the  thought  which  in  his  own  mind  had  lately 
come  between  them,  and  to  establish  their  intimacy 
on  an  even  closer  and  firmer  basis,  by  being  absolutely 
frank  with  her  on  the  matter. 

"Miss  Gray,"  he  said,  leaning  towards  her  with 
that  delightful  smile  of  boyish  candour  which  many 
women  had  found  irresistible,  "it  is  good  of  you  to 
have  told  me  about  yourself;  and,  although  I  confess 
to  feeling  unreasonably  jealous  of  the  fortunate  fellow 
who  possesses  your  whole  heart,  I  am  glad  he  exists, 
because  we  all  miss  something  unless  we  have  in  our 
lives  the  wonderful  experience  of  the  One  Woman  or 
the  One  Man.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  something, 
dear  sweet  friend  of  mine,  which  closely  touches  you 
and  me;  only,  before  I  do  so,  put  your  hand  in  mine, 
that  I  may  realise  you  in  a  closer  intimacy  than  hereto- 
fore. You,  who  have  been  in  Sightless  Land,  know  how 
much  a  hand  clasp  means  down  here. " 

Garth  stretched  his  hand  across  the  table,  and  his 
whole  attitude  was  tense  with  expectation. 

"I  cannot  do  that,  Mr.  Dalmain, "  said  Nurse  Rose- 
mary, in  a  voice  which  shook  a  little.  "I  have  burned 
my  hands.  Oh,  not  seriously.  Do  not  look  so  dis- 
tressed. Just  a  lighted  match.  Yes;  while  I  was  blind. 
Now  tell  me  the  thing  which  touches  you  and  me. " 

Garth  withdrew  his  hand  and  clasped  both  around 


276  The  Rosary 

his  knee.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  face  turned 
upwards.  There  was  upon  it  an  expression  so  pure, 
the  exaltation  of  a  spirit  so  lifted  above  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  lower  nature,  that  Jane's  eyes  filled  with 
tears  as  she  looked  at  him.  She  realised  what  his  love 
for  her,  supplemented  by  the  discipline  of  suffering, 
had  done  for  her  lover. 

He  began  to  speak  softly,  not  turning  towards  her. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,    "is  he — very  much  to  you?" 

Jane's  eyes  could  not  leave  the  dear  face  and  figure 
in  the  chair.  Jane's  emotion  trembled  in  Nurse 
Rosemary's  voice. 

"He  is  all  the  world  to  me, "  she  said. 

" Does  he  love  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  loved?" 

Jane  bent  and  laid  her  lips  on  the  table  where  his 
outstretched  hand  had  rested.  Then  Nurse  Rosemary 
answered:  "He  loved  me  far,  far  more  than  I  ever 
deserved." 

"Why  do  you  say  'loved'?  Is  not  'loves'  the  truer 
tense?" 

"Alas,  no!"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  brokenly;  "for 
I  fear  I  have  lost  his  love  by  my  own  mistrust  of  it 
and  my  own  wrong-doing. " 

"Never!"  said  Garth.  "  'Love  never  faileth.'  It 
may  for  a  time  appear  to  be  dead,  even  buried.  But 
the  Easter  morn  soon  dawns,  and  lo,  Love  ariseth! 
Love  grieved,  is  like  a  bird  with  wet  wings.  It  cannot 
fly;  it  cannot  rise.  It  hops  about  upon  the  ground, 
chirping  anxiously.  But  every  flutter  shakes  away 
more  drops;  every  moment  in  the  sunshine  is  drying 
the  tiny  feathers;  and  very  soon  it  soars  to  the  tree  top, 
all  the  better  for  the  bath,  which  seemed  to  have  robbed 
it  of  the  power  to  rise. " 

"Ah, — if  my  beloved  could  but  dry  his  wings,"  mur- 


Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land      277 

mured  Nurse  Rosemary.  "But  I  fear  I  did  more  than 
wet  them.  I  clipped  them.  Worse  still, — I  broke 
them." 

"Does  he  know  you  feel  yourself  so  in  the  wrong?" 
Garth  asked  the  question  very  gently. 

"No,"  replied  Nurse  Rosemary.  "He  will  give  me 
no  chance  to  explain,  and  no  opportunity  to  tell  him 
how  he  wrongs  himself  and  me  by  the  view  he  now  takes 
of  my  conduct." 

"Poor  girl!"  said  Garth  in  tones  of  sympathy  and 
comprehension.  "My  own  experience  has  been  such 
a  tragedy  that  I  can  feel  for  those  whose  course  of 
true  love  does  not  run  smooth.  But  take  my  advice, 
Miss  Gray.  Write  him  a  full  confession.  Keep  nothing 
back.  Tell  him  just  how  it  all  happened.  Any  man  who 
truly  loves  would  believe,  accept  your  explanation,  and 
be  thankful.  Only,  I  hope  he  would  not  come  tearing 
up  here  and  take  you  away  from  me!" 

Jane  smiled  through  a  mist  of  tears. 

"If  he  wanted  me,  Mr.  Dalmain,  I  should  have  to  go 
to  him,  "  said  Nurse  Rosemary. 

"How  I  dread  the  day,"  continued  Garth,  "when 
you  will  come  and  say  to  me:  'I  have  to  go.'  And,  do 
you  know,  I  have  sometimes  thought — you  have  done 
so  much  for  me  and  become  so  much  to  me — I  have 
sometimes  thought — I  can  tell  you  frankly  now — it 
might  have  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  very  obvious  way 
to  try  to  keep  you  always.  You  are  so  immensely  worthy 
of  all  a  man  could  offer,  of  all  the  devotion  a  man  could 
give.  And  because,  to  one  so  worthy,  I  never  could  have 
offered  less  than  the  best,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  in  my 
heart  I  hold  shrined  forever  one  beloved  face.  All  others 
are  gradually  fading.  Now,  in  my  blindness,  I  can  hardly 
recall  clearly  the  many  lovely  faces  I  have  painted  and 


278  The  Rosary 

admired.  All  are  more  or  less  blurred  and  indistinct. 
But  this  one  face  grows  clearer,  thank  God,  as  the 
darkness  deepens.  It  will  be  with  me  through  life, 
I  shall  see  it  in  death,  the  face  of  the  woman  I  love.  You 
said  'loved'  of  your  lover,  hesitating  to  be  sure  of  his 
present  state  of  heart.  I  can  neither  say  'love'  nor 
'loved' of  my  beloved.  She  never  loved  me.  But  I  love 
her  with  a  love  which  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  have 
any  'best'  to  offer  to  another  woman.  If  I  could  bring 
myself,  from  unworthy  motives  and  selfish  desires,  to 
ask  another  to  wed  me,  I  should  do  her  an  untold  wrong. 
For  her  unseen  face  would  be  nothing  to  me ;  always  that 
one  and  only  face  would  be  shining  in  my  darkness.  Her 
voice  would  be  dear,  only  in  so  far  as  it  reminded  me  of 
the  voice  of  the  woman  I  love.  Dear  friend,  if  you  ever 
pray  for  me,  pray  that  I  may  never  be  so  base  as  to  offer 
to  any  woman  such  a  husk  as  marriage  with  me  would 
mean." 

"But — "  said  Nurse  Rosemary.  "She — she  who  has 
made  it  a  husk  for  others;  she  who  might  have  the 
finest  of  the  wheat,  the  full  corn  in  the  ear,  herself?" 

"She,"  said  Garth,  "has  refused  it.  It  was  neither 
fine  enough  nor  full  enough.  It  was  not  worthy.  O 
my  God,  little  girl — !  What  it  means,  to  appear 
inadequate  to  the  woman  one  loves!" 

Garth  dropped  his  face  between  his  hands  with  a 
groan. 

Silence  unbroken  reigned  in  the  library. 

Suddenly  Garth  began  to  speak,  low  and  quickly, 
without  lifting  his  head. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "now  I  feel  it,  just  as  I  told  Brand, 
and  never  so  clearly  before,  excepting  once,  when  I 
was  alone.  Ah,  Miss  Gray!  Don't  move!  Don't  stir! 
But  look  all  round  the  room  and  tell  me  whether  you  see 


Hearts  Meet  in  Sightless  Land      279 

anything.  Look  at  the  window.  Look  at  the  door. 
Lean  forward  and  look  behind  the  screen.  I  cannot 
believe  we  are  alone.  I  will  not  believe  it.  I  am  being 
deceived  in  my  blindness.  And  yet — I  am  not  deceived. 
I  am  conscious  of  the  presence  of  the  woman  I  love. 
Her  ej^es  are  fixed  upon  me  in  pity,  sorrow,  and  com- 
passion. Her  grief  at  my  woe  is  so  great  that  it  almost 
enfolds  me,  as  I  had  dreamed  her  love  would  do.  .  .  .  O 
my  God!  She  is  so  near — and  it  is  so  terrible,  because  I 
do  not  wish  her  near.  I  would  sooner  a  thousand  miles 
were  between  us — and  I  am  certain  there  are  not  many 
yards!  .  .  .  Is  it  psychic?  or  is  it  actual?  or  am  I  going 
mad?  .  .  .  Miss  Gray!  You  would  not  lie  to  me.  No 
persuasion  or  bribery  or  confounded  chicanery  could 
induce  you  to  deceive  me  on  this  point.  Look  around,  for 
God's  sake,  and  tell  me!  Are  we  alone?  And  if  not, 
who  is  in  the  room  besides  you  and  me?" 

Jane  had  been  sitting  with  her  arms  folded  upon  the 
table,  her  yearning  eyes  fixed  upon  Garth's  bowed  head. 
When  he  wished  her  a  thousand  miles  away  she  buried 
her  face  upon  them.  She  was  so  near  him  that  had  Garth 
stretched  out  his  right  hand  again,  it  would  have  touched 
the  heavy  coils  of  her  soft  hair.  But  Garth  did  not  raise 
his  head,  and  Jane  still  sat  with  her  face  buried. 

There  was  silence  in  the  library  for  a  few  moments 
after  Garth's  question  and  appeal.  Then  Jane  lifted 
her  face. 

"There  is  no  one  in  the  room,  Mr.  Dalmain,"  said 
Nurse  Rosemary,  "but  you — and  me.' 


>» 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


THE   EYES   GARTH   TRUSTED 


"  PO  you  enjoy  motoring,  Miss  Gray?" 

O  They  had  been  out  in  the  motor  together  for  the 
first  time,  and  were  now  having  tea  together  in  the 
library,  also  for  the  first  time;  and,  for  the  first  time, 
Nurse  Rosemary  was  pouring  out  for  her  patient.  This 
was  only  Monday  afternoon,  and  already  her  week-end 
experience  had  won  for  her  many  new  privileges. 

"Yes,  I  like  it,  Mr.  Dalmain;  particularly  in  this 
beautiful  air." 

"Have  you  had  a  case  before  in  a  house  where  they 
kept  a  motor?" 

Nurse  Rosemary  hesitated.  "Yes,  I  have  stayed 
in  houses  where  they  had  motors,  and  I  have  been  in 
Dr.  Brand's.  He  met  me  at  Charing  Cross  once  with 
his  electric  brougham." 

"Ah,  I  know,"  said  Garth.  "Very  neat.  On  your 
way  to  a  case,  or  returning  from  a  case?" 

Nurse  Rosemary  smiled,  then  bit  her  lip.  "To  a 
case,"  she  replied  quite  gravely.  "I  was  on  my  way 
to  his  house  to  talk  it  over  and  receive  instructions." 

"It  must  be  splendid  working  under  such  a  fellow 
as  Brand,"  said  Garth;  "and  yet  I  am  certain  most  of 
the  best  things  you  do  are  quite  your  own  idea.  For 
instance,  he  did  not  suggest  your  week-end  plan,  did  he? 
I  thought  not.  Ah,  the  difference  it  has  made!  Now 
tell  me.  When  we  were  motoring  we  never  slowed  up 
suddenly  to  pass  anything,  or  tooted  to  make  something 
move  out  of  the  way,  without  your  having  already  told 

280 


The  Eyes  Garth  Trusted  '281 

me  what  we  were  going  to  pass  or  what  was  in  the  road  a 
little  way  ahead.  It  was:  'We  shall  be  passing  a  hay 
cart  at  the  next  bend ;  there  will  be  just  room,  but  we  shall 
have  to  slow  up';  or,  'An  old  red  cow  is  in  the  very 
middle  of  the  road  a  little  way  on.  I  think  she  will  move 
if  we  hoot.'  Then,  when  the  sudden  slow  down  and 
swerve  came,  or  the  toot  toot  of  the  horn,  I  knew  all  about 
it  and  was  not  taken  unawares.  Did  you  know  how  try- 
ing it  is  in  blindness  to  be  speeding  along  and  suddenly 
alter  pace  without  having  any  idea  why,  or  swerve  to 
one  side,  and  not  know  what  one  has  just  been  avoiding? 
This  afternoon  our  spin  was  pure  pleasure,  because  not 
once  did  you  let  these  things  happen.  I  knew  all  that 
was  taking  place,  as  soon  as  I  should  have  known  it  had 
I  had  my  sight." 

Jane  pressed  her  hand  over  her  bosom.  Ah,  how  able 
she  was  always  to  fill  her  boy's  life  with  pure  pleasure. 
How  little  of  the  needless  suffering  of  the  blind  should 
ever  be  his  if  she  won  the  right  to  be  beside  him  always. 

"Well,  Mr.  Dalmain,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  "I 
motored  to  the  station  with  Sir  Deryck  yesterday 
afternoon,  and  I  noticed  all  you  describe.  I  have  never 
before  felt  nervous  in  a  motor,  but  I  realised  yesterday 
how  largely  that  is  owing  to  the  fact  that  all  the  time  one 
keeps  an  unconscious  look-out;  measuring  distances, 
judging  speed,  and  knowing  what  each  turn  of  the  handle 
means.  So  when  we  go  out  you  must  let  me  be  eyes  to 
you  in  this." 

"How  good  you  are!"  said  Garth,  gratefully.  "And 
did  you  see  Sir  Deryck  off?" 

"No.  I  did  not  see  Sir  Deryck  at  all.  But  he  said 
good-bye,  and  I  felt  the  kind,  strong  grip  of  his  hand  as 
he  left  me  in  the  car.  And  I  sat  there  and  heard  his 
train  start  and  rush  away  into  the  distance." 


282  The  Rosary 

"Was  it  not  hard  to  you  to  let  him  come  and  go  and 
not  to  see  his  face?" 

Jane  smiled.  "Yes,  it  was  hard,"  said  Nurse  Rose- 
mary; "but  I  wished  to  experience  that  hardness." 

"It  gives  one  an  awful  blank  feeling,  doesn't  it?" 
said  Garth. 

"Yes.  It  almost  makes  one  wish  the  friend  had  not 
come." 

"Ah — "  There  was  a  depth  of  contented  compre- 
hension in  Garth's  sigh;  and  the  brave  heart,  which 
had  refused  to  lift  the  bandage  to  the  very  last,  felt 
more  than  recompensed. 

"Next  time  I  reach  the  Gulf  of  Partings  in  Sightless 
Land,"  continued  Garth,  "I  shall  say:  'A  dear  friend 
has  stood  here  for  my  sake. '  " 

"Oh,  and  one's  meals,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary  laugh- 
ing.   "Are  they  not  grotesquely  trying? " 

"Yes,  of  course;  I  had  forgotten  you  would  under- 
stand all  that  now.  I  never  could  explain  to  you  before 
why  I  must  have  my  meals  alone.  You  know  the  hunt 
and  chase?" 

"Yes,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  "and  it  usually  re- 
solves itself  into  '  gone  away, '  and  turns  up  afterwards 
unexpectedly!  But,  Mr.  Dalmain,  I  have  thought  out 
several  ways  of  helping  so  much  in  that  and  making 
it  all  quite  easy.  If  you  will  consent  to  have  your  meals 
with  me  at  a  small  table,  you  will  see  how  smoothly  all 
will  work.  And  later  on,  if  I  am  still  here,  when  you 
begin  to  have  visitors,  you  must  let  me  sit  at  your  left, 
and  all  my  little  ways  of  helping  would  be  so  unobtrusive, 
that  no  one  would  notice. " 

"Oh,  thanks,"  said  Garth.  "I  am  immensely  grate- 
ful. I  have  often  been  reminded  of  a  silly  game  we 
used  to  play  at  Overdene,  at  dessert,  when  we  were 


The  Eyes  Garth  Trusted  283 

a  specially  gay  party.  Do  you  know  the  old  Duchess 
of  Meldrum?  Or  anyway,  you  may  have  heard  of 
her?  Ah,  yes,  of  course,  Sir  Deryck  knows  her.  She 
called  him  in  once  to  her  macaw.  She  did  not  mention 
the  macaw  on  the  telephone,  and  Sir  Deryck,  thinking 
he  was  wanted  for  the  duchess,  threw  up  an  important 
engagement  and  went  immediately.  Luckily  she  was  at 
her  town  house.  She  would  have  sent  just  the  same  had 
she  been  at  Overdene.  I  wish  you  knew  Overdene.  The 
duchess  gives  perfectly  delightful  '  best  parties, '  in  which 
all  the  people  who  really  enjoy  meeting  one  another  find 
themselves  together,  and  are  well  fed  and  well  housed 
and  well  mounted,  and  do  exactly  as  they  like;  while  the 
dear  old  duchess  tramps  in  and  out,  with  her  queer 
beasts  and  birds,  shedding  a  kindly  and  exciting  influence 
wherever  she  goes.  Last  time  I  was  there  she  used 
to  let  out  six  Egyptian  jerboas  in  the  drawing-room 
every  evening  after  dinner,  awfully  jolly  little  beggars, 
like  miniature  kangaroos.  They  used  to  go  skipping 
about  on  their  hind  legs,  frightening  some  of  the  women 
into  fits  by  hiding  under  their  gowns,  and  making  young 
footmen  drop  trays  of  coffee  cups.  The  last  importation 
is  a  toucan, — a  South  American  bird,  with  a  beak  like  a 
banana,  and  a  voice  like  an  old  sheep  in  despair.  But 
Tommy,  the  scarlet  macaw,  remains  prime  favourite,  and 
I  must  say  he  is  clever  and  knows  more  than  you  would 
think. 

"Well,  at  Overdene  we  used  to  play  a  silly  game  at 
dessert  with  muscatels.  We  each  put  five  raisins  at 
intervals  round  our  plates,  then  we  shut  our  eyes  and 
made  jabs  at  them  with  forks.  Whoever  succeeded 
first  in  spiking  and  eating  all  five  was  the  winner.  The 
duchess  never  would  play.  She  enjoyed  being  umpire, 
and  screaming  at  the  people  who  peeped.    Miss  Cham- 


284  The  Rosary 

pion  and  I — she  is  the  duchess's  niece,  you  know — ■ 
always  played  fair,  and  we  nearly  always  made  a  dead 
heat  of  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  "I  know  that  game. 
I  thought  of  it  at,  once  when  I  had  my  blindfold  meals. " 

"Ah,"  cried  Garth,  "had  I  known,  I  would  not  have 
let  you  do  it!" 

"I  knew  that,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary.     "That  was 
why  I  week-ended." 

Garth  passed  his  cup  to  be  refilled,  and  leaned  forward 
confidentially. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "I  can  venture  to  tell  you  one  of 
my  minor  trials.  I  am  always  so  awfully  afraid  of 
there  being  a  fly  in  things.  Ever  since  I  was  a  small 
boy  I  have  had  such  a  horror  of  inadvertently  eating 
flies.  When  I  was  about  six,  I  heard  a  lady  visitor 
say  to  my  mother:  'Oh,  one  has  to  swallow  a  fly  about 
once  a  year!  I  have  just  swallowed  mine,  on  the  way 
here ! '  This  terrible  idea  of  an  annual  fly  took  possession 
of  my  small  mind.  I  used  to  be  thankful  when  it  hap- 
pened, and  I  got  it  over.  I  remember  quickly  finishing 
a  bit  of  bread  in  which  I  had  seen  signs  of  legs  and  wings, 
feeling  it  was  an  easy  way  of  taking  it  and  I  should  thus 
be  exempt  for  twelve  glad  months ;  but  I  had  to  run  up 
and  down  the  terrace  with  clenched  hands  while  I 
swallowed  it.  And  when  I  discovered  the  fallacy  of  the 
annual  fly,  I  was  just  as  particular  in  my  dread  of  an 
accidental  one.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  sat  down  to  sar- 
dines on  toast  at  a  restaurant  without  looking  under  the 
toast  for  my  bugbear,  though  as  I  lifted  it  I  felt  rather 
like  the  old  woman  who  always  looks  under  the  bed  for  a 
burglar.  Ah,  but  since  the  accident  this  foolishly  small 
thing  has  made  me  suffer!  I  cannot  say:  'Simpson,  are 
you  sure  there  is  not  a  fly  in  this  soup? '    Simpson  would 


The  Eyes  Garth  Trusted  285 

say:  'No-sir;  no  fly-sir,'  and  would  cough  behind  his 
hand,  and  I  could  never  ask  him  again." 

Nurse  Rosemary  leaned  forward  and  placed  his  cup 
where  he  could  reach  it  easily,  just  touching  his  right 
hand  with  the  edge  of  the  saucer.  "Have  all  your 
meals  with  me, "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  such  complete 
understanding,  that  it  was  almost  a  caress;  "and  I 
can  promise  there  shall  never  be  any  flies  in  anything. 
Could  you  not  trust  my  eyes  for  this?" 

And  Garth  replied,  with  a  happy,  grateful  smile: 
"I  could  trust  your  kind  and  faithful  eyes  for  any- 
thing. Ah!  and  that  reminds  me:  I  want  to  intrust  to 
them  a  task  I  could  confide  to  no  one  else.  Is  it  twilight 
yet,  Miss  Gray,  or  is  an  hour  of  daylight  left  to  us?" 

Nurse  Rosemary  glanced  out  of  the  window  and 
looked  at  her  watch.  "We  ordered  tea  early, "  she  said, 
"because  we  came  in  from  our  drive  quite  hungry. 
It  is  not  five  o'clock  yet,  and  a  radiant  afternoon.  The 
sun  sets  at  half -past  seven. " 

"Then  the  light  is  good,"  said  Garth.  "Have  you 
finished  tea?  The  sun  will  be  shining  in  at  the  west 
window  of  the  studio.  You  know  my  studio  at  the 
top  of  the  house?  You  fetched  the  studies  of  Lady 
Brand  from  there.  I  dare  say  you  noticed  stacks  of 
canvases  in  the  corners.  Some  are  unused;  some  con- 
tain mere  sketches  or  studies ;  some  are  finished  pictures. 
Miss  Gray,  among  the  latter  are  two  which  I  am  most 
anxious  to  identify  and  to  destroy.  I  made  Simpson 
guide  me  up  the  other  day  and  leave  me  there  alone. 
And  I  tried  to  find  them  by  touch;  but  I  could  not  be 
sure,  and  I  soon  grew  hopelessly  confused  amongst  all 
the  canvases.  I  did  not  wish  to  ask  Simpson's  help, 
because  the  subjects  are — well,  somewhat  unusual,  and 
if  he  found  out  I  had  destroyed  them  it  might  set  him 


286  The  Rosary 

wondering  and  talking,  and  one  hates  to  awaken  curiosity 
in  a  servant.  I  could  not  fall  back  on  Sir  Deryck  because 
he  would  have  recognised  the  portraits.  The  principal 
figure  is  known  to  him.  When  I  painted  those  pictures 
I  never  dreamed  of  any  eye  but  my  own  seeing  them. 
So  you,  my  dear  and  trusted  secretary,  are  the  one 
person  to  whom  I  can  turn.  Will  you  do  what  I  ask? 
And  will  you  do  it  now?" 

Nurse  Rosemary  pushed  back  her  chair.  "Why  of 
course,  Mr.  Dalmain.  I  am  here  to  do  anything  and 
everything  you  may  desire ;  and  to  do  it  when  you  desire 
it." 

Garth  took  a  key  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and 
laid  it  on  the  table.  "There  is  the  studio  latch-key. 
I  think  the  canvases  I  want  are  in  the  corner  furthest 
from  the  door,  behind  a  yellow  Japanese  screen.  They 
are  large — five  feet  by  three  and  a  half.  If  they  are  too 
cumbersome  for  you  to  bring  down,  lay  them  face  to  face, 
and  ring  for  Simpson.  But  do  not  leave  him  alone  with 
them." 

Nurse  Rosemary  picked  up  the  key,  rose,  and  went 
over  to  the  piano,  which  she  opened.  Then  she  tight- 
ened the  purple  cord,  which  guided  Garth  from  his 
chair  to  the  instrument. 

"Sit  and  play,"  she  said,  "while  I  am  upstairs,  doing 
your  commission.  But  just  tell  me  one  thing.  You 
know  how  greatly  your  work  interests  me.  When  I 
find  the  pictures,  is  it  your  wish  that  I  give  them  a 
mere  cursory  glance,  just  sufficient  for  identification; 
or  may  I  look  at  them,  in  the  beautiful  studio  light? 
You  can  trust  me  to  do  whichever  you  desire." 

The  artist  in  Garth  could  not  resist  the  wish  to  have 
his  work  seen  and  appreciated.  "You  may  look  at 
them  of  course,  if  you  wish, "  he  said.    "They  are  quite 


The  Eyes  Garth  Trusted  287 

the  best  work  I  ever  did,  though  I  painted  them  wholly 
from  memory.  That  is — I  mean,  that  used  to  be — a 
knack  of  mine.  And  they  are  in  no  sense  imaginary. 
I  painted  exactly  what  I  saw — at  least,  so  far  as  the 
female  face  and  figure  are  concerned.  And  they  make 
the  pictures.    The  others  are  mere  accessories. " 

He  stood  up,  and  went  to  the  piano.  His  fingers 
began  to  stray  softly  amongst  the  harmonies  of  the 
Veni. 

Nurse  Rosemary  moved  towards  the  door.  "How 
shall  I  know  them?"  she  asked,  and  waited. 

The  chords  of  the  Veni  hushed  to  a  murmur, 
Garth's  voice  from  the  piano  came  clear  and  distinct, 
but  blending  with  the  harmonies  as  if  he  were  reciting 
to  music. 

"A  woman  and  a  man  .  .  .  alone,  in  a  garden — 
but  the  surroundings  are  only  indicated.  She  is  in 
evening  dress;  soft,  black,  and  trailing;  with  lace  at 
her  breast.    It  is  called:  '  The  Wife. '  " 

"Yes?" 

"The  same  woman;  the  same  scene;  but  without 
the  man,  this  time.  No  need  to  paint  the  man;  for 
now — visible  or  invisible — to  her,  he  is  always  there. 
In  her  arms  she  holds" — the  low  murmur  of  chords 
ceased;  there  was  perfect  silence  in  the  room — "a  little 
child.    It  is  called :  '  The  Mother. '  " 

The  Veni  burst  forth  in  an  unrestrained  upbearing 
of  confident  petition: 

"Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home" — and  the  door 
closed  behind  Nurse  Rosemary. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


IN    THE    STUDIO 


JANE   mounted   to   the   studio;   unlocked  the  door, 
and,  entering,  closed  it  after  her. 

The  evening  sun  shone  through  a  western  window, 
imparting  an  added  richness  to  the  silk  screens  and 
hangings ;  the  mauve  wistaria  of  a  Japanese  embroid- 
ery; or  the  golden  dragon  of  China  on  a  deep  purple 
ground,  wound  up  in  its  own  interminable  tail,  and 
showing  rampant  claws  in  unexpected  places. 

Several  times  already  Jane  had  been  into  Garth's 
studio,  but  always  to  fetch  something  for  which  he 
waited  eagerly  below;  and  she  had  never  felt  free  to 
linger.  Margery  had  a  duplicate  key;  for  she  herself 
went  up  every  day  to  open  the  windows,  dust  tenderly 
all  special  treasures ;  and  keep  it  exactly  as  its  owner  had 
liked  it  kept,  when  his  quick  eyes  could  look  around  it. 
But  this  key  was  always  on  Margery's  bunch;  and  Jane 
did  not  like  to  ask  admission,  and  risk  a  possible  refusal. 

Now,  however,'  she  could  take  her  own  time;  and 
she  seated  herself  in  one  of  the  low  and  very  deep  wicker 
lounge-chairs,  comfortably  upholstered ;  so  exactly  fitting 
her  proportions,  and  supporting  arms,  knees,  and  head, 
just  rightly,  that  it  seemed  as  if  all  other  chairs  would  in 
future  appear  inadequate,  owing  to  the  absolute  per- 
fection of  this  one.  Ah,  to  be  just  that  to  her  beloved! 
To  so  fully  meet  his  need,  at  every  point,  that  her 
presence  should  be  to  him  always  a  source  of  strength, 
and  rest,  and  consolation. 

She  looked  around  the  room.    It  was  so  like  Garth; 

288 


In  the  Studio  289 

every  detail  perfect;  every  shade  of  colour  enhancing 
another,  and  being  enhanced  by  it.  The  arrangements 
for  regulating  the  light,  both  from  roof  and  windows; 
the  easels  of  all  kinds  and  sizes;  clean  bareness,  where 
space,  and  freedom  from  dust,  were  required ;  the  luxuri- 
ous comfort  round  the  fireplace,  and  in  nooks  and  corners ; 
all  were  so  perfect.  And  the  plain  brown  wall-paper,  of 
that  beautiful  quiet  shade  which  has  in  it  no  red,  and  no 
yellow ;  a  clear  nut-brown.  On  an  easel  near  the  further 
window  stood  an  unfinished  painting ;  palette  and  brushes 
beside  it,  just  as  Garth  had  left  them  when  he  went  out 
on  that  morning,  nearly  three  months  ago;  and,  vaulting 
over  a  gate  to  protect  a  little  animal  from  unnecessary 
pain,  was  plunged  himself  into  such  utter  loss  and 
anguish. 

Jane  rose,  and  took  stock  of  all  his  quaint  treasures 
on  the  mantelpiece.  Especially  her  mind  was  held 
and  fascinated  by  a  stout  little  bear  in  brass,  sitting 
solidly  yet  jauntily  on  its  haunches,  its  front  paws 
clasping  a  brazen  pole;  its  head  turned  sideways;  its 
small,  beady,  eyes,  looking  straight  before  it.  The 
chain,  from  its  neck  to  the  pole  denoted  captivity  and 
possible  fierceness.  Jane  had  no  doubt  its  head  would 
lift,  and  its  body  prove  a  receptacle  for  matches;  but 
she  felt  equally  certain  that,  should  she  lift  its  head  and 
look,  no  matches  would  be  within  it.  This  little  bear 
was  unmistakably  Early  Victorian;  a  friend  of  child- 
hood's days;  and  would  not  be  put  to  common  uses. 
She  lifted  the  head.  The  body  was  empty.  She  re- 
placed it  gently  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  realised  that 
she  was  deliberately  postponing  an  ordeal  which  must 
be  faced. 

Deryck  had  told  her  of  Garth's  pictures  of  the  One 
Woman.  Garth,  himself,  had  now  told  her  even  more. 
19 


290  The  Rosary 

But  the  time  had  come  when  she  must  see  them  for 
herself.  It  was  useless  to  postpone  the  moment.  She 
looked  towards  the  yellow  screen. 

Then  she  walked  over  to  the  western  window,  and 
threw  it  wide  open.  The  sun  was  dipping  gently  towards 
the  purple  hills.  The  deep  blue  of  the  sky  began  to  pale, 
as  a  hint  of  lovely  rose  crept  into  it.  Jane  looked  heaven- 
ward and,  thrusting  her  hands  deeply  into  her  pockets, 
spoke  aloud.  "Before  God"  she  said, — "in  case  I  am 
never  able  to  say  or  think  it  again,  I  will  say  it  now — I 
believe  I  was  right.  I  considered  Garth's  future  happiness, 
and  I  considered  my  own.  I  decided  as  I  did  for  both 
our  sakes,  at  terrible  cost  to  present  joy.  But,  before 
God,  I  believed  I  was  right;  and — i"  believe  it  still." 

Jane  never  said  it  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

JANE  LOOKS  INTO  LOVE'S  MIRROR 

BEHIND  the  yellow  screen,  Jane  found  a  great  con- 
fusion of  canvases,  and  unmistakable  evidence  of 
the  blind  hands  which  had  groped  about  in  a  vain 
search,  and  then  made  fruitless  endeavours  to  sort  and 
rearrange.  Very  tenderly,  Jane  picked  up  each  canvas 
from  the  fallen  heap;  turning  it  the  right  way  up,  and 
standing  it  with  its  face  to  the  wall.  Beautiful  work, 
was  there;  some  of  it  finished;  some,  incomplete.  One 
or  two  faces  she  knew,  looked  out  at  her  in  their  pictured 
loveliness.    But  the  canvases  she  sought  were  not  there. 

She  straightened  herself,  and  looked  around.  In  a 
further  corner,  partly  concealed  by  a  Cairo  screen, 
stood  another  pile.    Jane  went  to  them. 

Almost  immediately  she  found  the  two  she  wanted; 
larger  than  the  rest,  and  distinguishable  at  a  glance 
by  the  soft  black  gown  of  the  central  figure. 

Without  giving  them  more  than  a  passing  look,  she 
carried  them  over  to  the  western  window,  and  placed 
them  in  a  good  light.  Then  she  drew  up  the  chair  in 
which  she  had  been  sitting;  took  the  little  brass  bear 
in  her  left  hand,  as  a  talisman  to  help  her  through 
what  lay  before  her;  turned  the  second  picture  with  its 
face  to  the  easel ;  and  sat  down  to  the  quiet  contemplation 
of  the  first. 

The  noble  figure  of  a  woman,  nobly  painted,  was  the 
first  impression  which  leapt  from  eye  to  brain.  Yes, 
nobility  came  first,  in  stately  pose,  in  uplifted  brow, 
in    breadth    of    dignity.      Then — as    you    marked    the 

291 


292  The  Rosary 

grandly  massive  figure,  too  well-proportioned  to  be 
cumbersome,  but  large  and  full,  and  amply  developed; 
the  length  of  limb;  the  firmly  planted  feet;  the  large 
capable  hands, — you  realised  the  second  impression  con- 
veyed by  the  picture,  to  be  strength; — strength  to  do; 
strength  to  be;  strength  to  continue.  Then  you  looked 
into  the  face.  And  there  you  were  confronted  with  a 
great  surprise.  The  third  thought  expressed  by  the 
picture  was  Love — love,  of  the  highest,  holiest,  most 
ideal,  kind;  yet,  withal,  of  the  most  tenderly  human 
order;  and  you  found  it  in  that  face. 

It  was  a  large  face,  well  proportioned  to  the  figure. 
It  had  no  pretensions  whatever  to  ordinary  beauty. 
The  features  were  good;  there  was  not  an  ugly  line 
about  them;  and  yet,  each  one  just  missed  the  beauti- 
ful; and  the  general  effect  was  of  a  good-looking  plain- 
ness; unadorned,  unconcealed,  and  unashamed.  But 
the  longer  you  looked,  the  more  desirable  grew  the 
face;  the  less  you  noticed  its  negations;  the  more  you 
admired  its  honesty,  its  purity,  its  immense  strength 
of  purpose;  its  noble  simplicity.  You  took  in  all  these 
outward  details;  you  looked  away  for  a  moment,  to 
consider  them;  you  looked  back  to  verify  them;  and 
then  the  miracle  happened.  Into  the  face  had  stolen 
the  "light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land."  It  shone 
from  the  quiet  grey  eyes, — as,  over  the  head  of  the 
man  who  knelt  before  her,  they  looked  out  of  the  picture 
■ — with  an  expression  of  the  sublime  surrender  of  a 
woman's  whole  soul  to  an  emotion  which,  though  it 
sways  and  masters  her,  yet  gives  her  the  power  to 
be  more  truly  herself  than  ever  before.  The  startled 
joy  in  them;  the  marvel  at  a  mystery  not  yet  under- 
stood; the  passionate  tenderness;  and  yet  the  almost 
divine    compassion    for    the    unrestrained    violence    of 


Jane  Looks  into  Love's  Mirror       293 

feeling,  which  had  flung  the  man  to  his  knees,  and 
driven  him  to  the  haven  of  her  breast;  the  yearning  to 
soothe,  and  give,  and  content; — all  these  were  blended 
into  a  look  of  such  exquisite  sweetness,  that  it  brought 
tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  beholder. 

The  woman  was  seated  on  a  broad  marble  parapet. 
She  looked  straight  before  her.  Her  knees  came  well 
forward,  and  the  long  curve  of  the  train  of  her  black 
gown  filled  the  foreground  on  the  right.  On  the  left, 
slightly  to  one  side  of  her,  knelt  a  man,  a  tall  slight 
figure  in  evening  dress,  his  arms  thrown  forward  around 
her  waist;  his  face  completely  hidden  in  the  soft  lace 
at  her  bosom;  only  the  back  of  his  sleek  dark  head, 
visible.  And  yet  the  whole  figure  denoted  a  passion  of 
tense  emotion.  She  had  gathered  him  to  her  with  what 
you  knew  must  have  been  an  exquisite  gesture,  com- 
bining the  utter  self-surrender  of  the  woman,  with  the 
tender  throb  of  maternal  solicitude;  and  now  her  hands 
were  clasped  behind  his  head,  holding  him  closely  to  her. 
Not  a  word  was  being  spoken.  The  hidden  face  was 
obviously  silent;  and  her  firm  lips  above  his  dark  head 
were  folded  in  a  line  of  calm  self-control;  though 
about  them  hovered  the  dawning  of  a  smile  of  bliss 
ineffable. 

A  crimson  rambler  rose  climbing  some  woodwork 
faintly  indicated  on  the  left,  and  hanging  in  a  glowing 
mass  from  the  top  left-hand  corner,  supplied  the  only 
vivid  colour  in  the  picture. 

But,  from  taking  in  these  minor  details,  the  eye 
returned  to  that  calm  tender  face,  alight  with  love;  to 
those  strong  capable  hands,  now  learning  for  the  first 
time  to  put  forth  the  protective  passion  of  a  woman's 
tenderness;  and  the  mind  whispered  the  only  possible 
name  for  that  picture:  The  Wife. 


294  The  Rosary- 

Jane  gazed  at  it  long,  in  silence.  Had  Garth's  little 
bear  been  anything  less  solid  than  Early  Victorian 
brass,  it  must  have  bent  and  broken  under  the  strong 
pressure  of  those  clenched  hands. 

She  could  not  doubt,  for  a  moment,  that  she  looked 
upon  herself;  but,  oh,  merciful  heavens!  how  unlike 
the  reflected  self  of  her  own  mirror!  Once  or  twice 
as  she  looked,  her  mind  refused  to  work,  and  she 
simply  gazed  blankly  at  the  minor  details  of  the 
picture.  But  then  again,  the  expression  of  the  grey 
eyes  drew  her,  recalling  so  vividly  every  feeling  she 
had  experienced  when  that  dear  head  had  come  so 
unexpectedly  to  its  resting-place  upon  her  bosom.  "It 
is  true,"  she  whispered;  and  again:  "Yes;  it  is 
true.  I  cannot  deny  it.  It  is  as  I  felt;  it  must  be  as  I 
looked." 

And  then,  suddenly,  she  fell  upon  her  knees  before 
the  picture.  "Oh,  my  God!  Is  that  as  I  looked?  And 
the  next  thing  that  happened  was  my  boy  lifting  his 
shining  eyes  and  gazing  at  me  in  the  moonlight.  Is 
this  what  he  saw?  Did  I  look  so?  And  did  the 
woman  who  looked  so;  and  who,  looking  so,  pressed 
his  head  down  again  upon  her  breast,  refuse  next 
day  to  marry  him,  on  the  grounds  of  his  youth, 
and  her  superiority?  .  .  .  Oh,  Garth,  Garth!  .  .  .  O 
God,  help  him  to  understand!  .  .  .  help  him  to  forgive 
me!" 

In  the  work-room  just  below,  Maggie  the  housemaid 
was  singing  as  she  sewed.  The  sound  floated  through 
the  open  window,  each  syllable  distinct  in  the  clear 
Scotch  voice,  and  reached  Jane  where  she  knelt.  Her 
mind,  stunned  to  blankness  by  its  pain,  took  eager 
hold  upon  the  words  of  Maggie's  hymn.  And  they  were 
these. 


Jane  Looks  into  Love's  Mirror      295 

"  O  Love,  that  will  not  let  me  go, 
I  rest  my  weary  soul  in  Thee; 
I  give  Thee  back  the  life  I  owe, 
That  in  Thine  ocean  depths  its  flow 
May  richer,  fuller  be. 

"  O  Light,  that  followest  all  my  way, 
I  yield  my  flick'ring  torch  to  Thee; 
My  heart  restores  its  borrowed  ray, 
That  in  Thy  sunshine's  blaze  its  day 
May  brighter,  fairer  be. " 

Jane  took  the  second  picture,  and  placed  it  in  front 
of  the  first. 

The  same  woman,  seated  as  before;  but  the  man  was 
not  there;  and  in  her  arms,  its  tiny  dark  head  pillowed 
against  the  fulness  of  her  breast,  lay  a  little  child. 
The  woman  did  not  look  over  that  small  head,  but  bent 
above  it,  and  gazed  into  the  baby  face. 

The  crimson  rambler  had  grown  right  across  the 
picture,  and  formed  a  glowing  arch  above  mother 
and  child.  A  majesty  of  tenderness  was  in  the  large 
figure  of  the  mother.  The  face,  as  regarded  contour 
and  features,  was  no  less  plain;  but  again  it  was  trans- 
figured, by  the  mother-love  thereon  depicted.  You 
knew  "The  Wife"  had  more  than  fulfilled  her  abundant 
promise.  The  wife  was  there  in  fullest  realisation; 
and,  added  to  wifehood,  the  wonder  of  motherhood. 
All  mysteries  were  explained;  all  joys  experienced;  and 
the  smile  on  her  calm  lips,  bespoke  ineffable  content. 

A  rambler  rose  had  burst  above  them,  and  fallen  in 
a  shower  of  crimson  petals  upon  mother  and  child. 
The  baby-fingers  clasped  tightly  the  soft  lace  at  her 
bosom.  A  petal  had  fallen  upon  the  tiny  wrist.  She  had 
lifted  her  hand  to  remove  it ;  and,  catching  the  baby-eyes, 
so  dark  and  shining,  paused  for  a  moment,  and  smiled. 


296  The  Rosary 

Jane,  watching  them,  fell  to  desperate  weeping. 
The  "mere  boy"  had  understood  her  potential  possi- 
bilities of  motherhood  far  better  than  she  understood 
them  herself.  Having  had  one  glimpse  of  her  as  "The 
Wife,"  his  mind  had  leaped  on,  and  seen  her  as  "The 
Mother."  And  again  she  was  forced  to  say:  "It  is 
true — yes;  it  is  true." 

And  then  she  recalled  the  old  line  of  cruel  reasoning: 
"It  was  not  the  sort  of  face  one  would  have  wanted 
to  see  always  in  front  of  one  at  table."  Was  this  the 
sort  of  face — this,  as  Garth  had  painted  it,  after  a 
supposed  year  of  marriage?  Would  any  man  weary  of  it, 
or  wish  to  turn  away  his  eyes? 

Jane  took  one  more  long  look.  Then  she  dropped 
the  little  bear,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands;  while 
a  hot  blush  crept  up  to  the  very  roots  of  her  hair,  and 
tingled  to  her  finger-tips. 

Below,  the  fresh  young  voice  was  singing  again. 

"  0  Joy,  that  seekest  me  through  pain, 
I  cannot  close  my  heart  to  Thee; 
I  trace  the  rainbow  through  the  rain, 
And  feel  the  promise  is  not  vain 
That  morn  shall  tearless  be. " 

After  a  while  Jane  whispered:  "Oh,  my  darling, 
forgive  me.  I  was  altogether  wrong.  I  will  confess; 
and,  God  helping  me,  I  will  explain;  and,  oh,  my  darling, 
you  will  forgive  me?" 

Once  more  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  the 
picture.  A  few  stray  petals  of  the  crimson  rambler 
lay  upon  the  ground;  reminding  her  of  those  crushed 
roses,  which,  falling  from  her  breast,  lay  scattered  on 
the  terrace  at  Shenstone,  emblem  of  the  joyous  hopes 
and  glory  of  love  which  her  decision  of  that  night  had 


Jane  Looks  into  Love's  Mirror      297 

laid  in  the  dust  of  disillusion.  But  crowning  this  picture, 
in  rich  clusters  of  abundant  bloom,  grew  the  rambler 
rose.  And  through  the  open  window  came  the  final 
verse  of  Maggie's  hymn. 

"  O  Cross,  that  lif test  up  my  head, 
I  dare  not  ask  to  fly  from  Thee; 
I  lay  in  dust  life's  glory  dead, 
And  from  the  ground  there  blossoms  red 
Life  that  shall  endless  be." 

Jane  went  to  the  western  window,  and  stood,  with 
her  arms  stretched  above  her,  looking  out  upon  the 
radiance  of  the  sunset.  The  sky  blazed  into  gold  and 
crimson  at  the  horizon;  gradually  as  the  eye  lifted, 
paling  to  primrose,  flecked  with  rosy  clouds;  and,  over- 
head, deep  blue — fathomless,  boundless,  blue. 

Jane  gazed  at  the  golden  battlements  above  the 
purple  hills,  and  repeated,  half  aloud:  "And  the  city 
was  of  pure  gold; — and  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither 
of  the  moon  to  shine  in  it:  for  the  glory  of  God  did 
lighten  it.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  death;  neither 
sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain: 
for  the  former  things  are  passed  away." 

Ah,  how  much  had  passed  away  since  she  stood 
at  that  western  window,  not  an  hour  before.  All  life 
seemed  readjusted;  its  outlook  altered;  its  perspective 
changed.    Truly  Garth  had  "gone  behind  his  blindness. " 

Jane  raised  her  eyes  to  the  blue;  and  a  smile  of  un- 
speakable anticipation  parted  her  lips.  "Life,  that  shall 
endless  be,"  she  murmured.  Then,  turning,  found  the 
little  bear,  and  restored  him  to  his  place  upon  the 
mantelpiece;  put  back  the  chair;  closed  the  western 
window;  and,  picking  up  the  two  canvases,  left  the 
studio,  and  made  her  way  carefully  downstairs. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


"the  lady  portrayed" 


"IT  has  taken  you  long,  Miss  Gray.     I  nearly  sent 

1     Simpson  up,  to  find  out  what  had  happened. " 

"I  am  glad  you  did  not  do  that,  Mr.  Dalmain.  Simp- 
son would  have  found  me  weeping  on  the  studio  floor; 
and  to  ask  his  assistance  under  those  circumstances, 
would  have  been  more  humbling  than  inquiring  after 
the  fly  in  the  soup!" 

Garth  turned  quickly  in  his  chair.  The  artist-ear 
had  caught  the  tone  which  meant  comprehension  of 
his  work. 

"Weeping!"  he  said.    "Why?" 

"Because, "  answered  Nurse  Rosemary,  " I  have  been 
entranced.  These  pictures  are  so  exquisite.  They  stir 
one's  deepest  depths.  And  yet  they  are  so  pathetic — 
ah,  so  pathetic;  because  you  have  made  a  plain  woman, 
beautiful. " 

Garth  rose  to  his  feet,  and  turned  upon  her  a  face 
which  would  have  blazed,  had  it  not  been  sightless. 

"A  what  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

"A  plain  woman, "  repeated  Nurse  Rosemary,  quietly. 
"Surely  you  realised  your  model  to  be  that.  And 
therein  lies  the  wonder  of  the  pictures.  You  have 
so  beautified  her  by  wifehood,  and  glorified  her  by 
motherhood,  that  the  longer  one  looks  the  more 
one  forgets  her  plainness;  seeing  her  as  loving  and 
loved;  lovable,  and  therefore  lovely.  It  is  a  triumph 
of  art." 

Garth  sat  down,  his  hands  clasped  before  him. 

298 


"  The  Lady  Portrayed  "  299 

"It  is  a  triumph  of  truth, "  he  said.  " I  painted  what 
I  saw." 

"You  painted  her  soul,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  "and 
it  illuminated  her  plain  face. " 

"I  saw  her  soul,"  said  Garth,  almost  in  a  whisper; 
"and  that  vision  was  so  radiant  that  it  illumined  my 
dark  life.  The  remembrance  lightens  my  darkness, 
even  now. " 

A  very  tender  silence  fell  in  the  library. 

The  twilight  deepened. 

Then  Nurse  Rosemary  spoke,  very  low.  "Mr.  Dal- 
main,  I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you.  I  want  to  beg 
you  not  to  destroy  these  pictures." 

Garth  lifted  his  head.  "  I  must  destroy  them,  child, " 
he  said.  "I  cannot  risk  their  being  seen  by  people  who 
would  recognise  my — the — the  lady  portrayed. " 

"At  all  events,  there  is  one  person  who  must  see  them, 
before  they  are  destroyed." 

"And  that  is?"  queried  Garth. 

"The  lady  portrayed, "  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  bravely. 

"How  do  you  know  she  has  not  seen  them?" 

"Has  she?"  inquired  Nurse  Rosemary. 

"No,"  said  Garth,  shortly;  "and  she  never  will." 

"She  must." 

Something  in  the  tone  of  quiet  insistence  struck  Garth. 

"Why?"  he  asked;  and  listened  with  interest  for  the 
answer. 

"Because  of  all  it  would  mean  to  a  woman  who 
knows  herself  plain,  to  see  herself  thus  beautified. " 

Garth  sat  very  still  for  a  few  moments.  Then:  "A 
woman  who — knows — herself — plain?"  he  repeated,  with 
interrogative  amazement  in  his  voice. 

"  Yes, "  proceeded  Nurse  Rosemary,  encouraged.  "  Do 
you  suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  that  lady's  mirror  has 


300  The  Rosary 

ever  shown  her  a  reflection  in  any  way  approaching  what 
you  have  made  her  in  these  pictures?  When  we  stand 
before  our  looking-glasses,  Mr.  Dalmain,  scowling  anx- 
iously at  hats  and  bows,  and  partings,  we  usually  look 
our  very  worst;  and  that  lady,  at  her  very  worst,  would 
be  of  a  most  discouraging  plainness." 

Garth  sat  perfectly  silent. 

"Depend  upon  it,"  continued  Nurse  Rosemary,  "she 
never  sees  herself  as  '  The  Wife ' — '  The  Mother. '  Is  she 
a  wife?" 

Garth  hesitated  only  the  fraction  of  a  second.  "Yes, " 
he  said,  very  quietly. 

Jane's  hands  flew  to  her  breast.  Her  heart  must  be 
held  down,  or  he  would  hear  it  throbbing. 

Nurse  Rosemary's  voice  had  in  it  only  a  slight  tremor, 
when  she  spoke  again. 

"Is  she  a  mother?" 

"No,"  said  Garth.  "I  painted  what  might  have 
been." 

"If ?" 

"If  it  had  been,  "  replied  Garth,  curtly. 

Nurse  Rosemary  felt  rebuked.  "Dear  Mr.  Dal- 
main," she  said,  humbly;  "I  realise  how  officious  I 
must  seem  to  you,  with  all  these  questions,  and  sug- 
gestions. But  you  must  blame  the  hold  these  wonderful 
paintings  of  yours  have  taken  on  my  mind.  Oh,  they 
are  beautiful — beautiful!" 

"Ah,"  said  Garth,  the  keen  pleasure  of  the  artist 
springing  up  once  more.  "Miss  Gray,  I  have  some- 
what forgotten  them.  Have  you  them  here?  That 
is  right.  Put  them  up  before  you,  and  describe  them 
to  me.    Let  me  hear  how  they  struck  you,  as  pictures." 

Jane  rose,  and  went  to  the  window.  She  threw  it 
open;  and  as  she  breathed  in  the  fresh  air,  breathed  out 


"The  Lady  Portrayed"  301 

a  passionate  prayer  that  her  nerve,  her  voice,  her  self- 
control  might  not  fail  her,  in  this  critical  hour.  She 
herself  had  been  convicted  by  Garth's  pictures.  Now 
she  must  convince  Garth,  by  her  description  of  them. 
He  must  be  made  to  believe  in  the  love  he  had  depicted. 

Then  Nurse  Rosemary  sat  down;  and,  in  the  gentle, 
unemotional  voice,  which  was  quite  her  own,  described 
to  the  eager  ears  of  the  blind  artist,  exactly  what  Jane 
had  seen  in  the  studio. 

It  was  perfectly  done.  It  was  mercilessly  done. 
All  the  desperate,  hopeless,  hunger  for  Jane,  awoke  in 
Garth;  the  maddening  knowledge  that  she  had  been 
his,  and  yet  not  his;  that,  had  he  pressed  for  her  answer 
that  evening,  it  could  not  have  been  a  refusal;  that  the 
cold  calculations  of  later  hours,  had  no  place  in  those 
moments  of  ecstasy.  Yet — he  lost  her — lost  her!  Why? 
Ah,  why?  Was  there  any  possible  reason  other  than  the 
one  she  gave? 

Nurse  Rosemary's  quiet  voice  went  on,  regardless  of 
his  writhings.  But  she  was  drawing  to  a  close.  "And 
it  is  such  a  beautiful  crimson  rambler,  Mr.  Dalmain, " 
she  said.  "I  like  the  idea  of  its  being  small  and  in  bud, 
in  the  first  picture;  and  blooming  in  full  glory,  in  the 
second." 

Garth  pulled  himself  together  and  smiled.  He  must 
not  give  way  before  this  girl. 

"Yes,"  he  said;  "I  am  glad  you  noticed  that.  And, 
look  here.  We  will  not  destroy  them  at  once.  Now 
they  are  found,  there  is  no  hurry.  I  am  afraid  I  am 
giving  you  a  lot  of  trouble;  but  will  you  ask  for  some 
large  sheets  of  brown  paper,  and  make  a  package,  and 
write  upon  it:  ' Not  to  be  opened, '  and  tell  Margery  to 
put  them  back  in  the  studio.  Then,  when  I  want  them, 
at  any  time,  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  identifying  them. " 


302  The  Rosary 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary.  "Then 
perhaps  the  plain  lady " 

"I  cannot  have  her  spoken  of  so,"  said  Garth,  hotly. 
"I  do  not  know  what  she  thought  of  herself — I  doubt 
if  she  ever  gave  a  thought  to  self  at  all.  I  do  not  know 
what  you  would  have  thought  of  her.  I  can  only  tell 
you  that,  to  me,  hers  is  the  one  face  which  is  visible  in 
my  darkness.  All  the  loveliness  I  have  painted,  all 
the  beauty  I  have  admired,  fades  from  my  mental 
vision,  as  wreaths  of  mist;  flutters  from  memory's 
sight,  as  autumn  leaves.  Her  face  alone  abides;  calm, 
holy,  tender,  beautiful, — it  is  always  before  me.  And  it 
pains  me  that  one  who  has  only  seen  her  as  my  hand 
depicted  her  should  speak  of  her  as  plain. " 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  humbly.  "I 
did  not  mean  to  pain  you,  sir.  And,  to  show  you  what 
your  pictures  have  done  for  me,  may  I  tell  you  a  resolu- 
tion I  made  in  the  studio?  I  cannot  miss  what  they 
depict — the  sweetest  joys  of  life — for  want  of  the  courage 
to  confess  myself  wrong;  pocket  my  pride;  and  be  frank 
and  humble.  I  am  going  to  write  a  full  confession  to  my 
young  man,  as  to  my  share  of  the  misunderstanding 
which  has  parted  us.  Do  you  think  he  will  understand  ? 
Do  you  think  he  will  forgive?" 

Garth  smiled.  He  tried  to  call  up  an  image  of  a 
pretty  troubled  face,  framed  in  a  fluffy  setting  of  soft 
fair  hair.  It  harmonised  so  little  with  the  voice;  but 
it  undoubtedly  was  Nurse  Rosemary  Gray,  as  others  saw 
her. 

"He  will  be  a  brute  if  he  doesn't,  child,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


IN   LIGHTER   VEIN 


DINNER  that  evening,  the  first  at  their  small  round 
table,  was  a  great  success.  Nurse  Rosemary's 
plans  all  worked  well;  and  Garth  delighted  in  arrange- 
ments which  made  him  feel  less  helpless. 

The  strain  of  the  afternoon  brought  its  reaction  of 
merriment.  A  little  judicious  questioning  drew  forth 
further  stories  of  the  duchess  and  her  pets;  and  Miss 
Champion's  name  came  in  with  a  frequency  which  they 
both  enjoyed. 

It  was  a  curious  experience  for  Jane,  to  hear  herself 
described  in  Garth's  vivid  word-painting.  Until  that 
fatal  evening  at  Shenstone,  she  had  been  remarkably 
free  from  self-consciousness;  and  she  had  no  idea  that 
she  had  a  way  of  looking  straight  into  people's  eyes 
when  she  talked  to  them,  and  that  that  was  what 
muddled  up  "the  silly  little  minds  of  women  who  say 
they  are  afraid  of  her,  and  that  she  makes  them  ner- 
vous !  You  see  she  looks  right  into  their  shallow  shuffling 
little  souls,  full  of  conceited  thoughts  about  themselves, 
and  nasty  ill-natured  thoughts  about  her;  and  no  wonder 
they  grow  panic-stricken,  and  flee;  and  talk  of  her  as 
'that  formidable  Miss  Champion.'  I  never  found  her 
formidable;  but,  when  I  had  the  chance  of  a  real  talk  with 
her,  I  used  to  be  thankful  I  had  nothing  of  which  to  be 
ashamed.  Those  clear  eyes  touched  bottom  every  time, 
as  our  kindred  over  the  water  so  expressively  put  it. " 

Neither  had  Jane  any  idea  that  she  always  talked 
with  a  poker,  if  possible;  building  up  the  fire  while  she 

303 


304  The  Rosary 

built  up  her  own  argument;  or  attacking  it  vigor« 
ously,  while  she  demolished  her  opponent's;  that  she 
stirred  the  fire  with  her  toe,  but  her  very  smart  boots 
never  seemed  any  the  worse;  that  when  pondering  a 
difficult  problem,  she  usually  stood  holding  her  chin 
in  her  right  hand,  until  she  had  found  the  solution. 
All  these  small  characteristics  Garth  described  with 
vivid  touch,  and  dwelt  upon  with  a  tenacity  of  remem- 
brance, which  astonished  Jane,  and  revealed  him,  in 
his  relation  to  herself  three  years  before,  in  a  new  light. 

His  love  for  her  had  been  so  suddenly  disclosed,  and 
had  at  once  had  to  be  considered  as  a  thing  to  be  either 
accepted  or  put  away;  so  that  when  she  decided  to  put 
it  away,  it  seemed  not  to  have  had  time  to  become  in  any 
sense  part  of  her  life.  She  had  viewed  it;  realised  all  it 
might  have  meant;  and  put  it  from  her. 

But  now  she  understood  how  different  it  had  been 
for  Garth.  During  the  week  which  preceded  his  de- 
claration, he  had  realised,  to  the  full,  the  meaning 
of  their  growing  intimacy;  and,  as  his  certainty  in- 
creased, he  had  more  and  more  woven  her  into  his 
life;  his  vivid  imagination  causing  her  to  appear  as  his 
beloved  from  the  first;  loved  and  wanted,  when  as  yet 
they  were  merely  acquaintances;  kindred  spirits; 
friends. 

To  find  herself  thus  shrined  in  his  heart  and  memory 
was  infinitely  touching  to  Jane;  and  seemed  to  promise, 
with  sweet  certainty,  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to 
come  home  there  to  abide,  when  once  all  barriers  between 
them  were  removed. 

After  dinner,  Garth  sat  long  at  the  piano,  filling  the 
room  with  harmony.  Once  or  twice  the  theme  of 
The  Rosary  crept  in,  and  Jane  listened  anxiously  for 
its  development;  but  almost  immediately  it  gave  way 


In  Lighter  Vein  305 

to  something  else.  It  seemed  rather  to  haunt  the  other 
melodies,  than  to  be  actually  there  itself. 

When  Garth  left  the  piano,  and,  guided  by  the  purple 
cord,  reached  his  chair,  Nurse  Rosemary  said  gently: 
"Mr.  Dalmain,  can  you  spare  me  for  a  few  days  at  the 
end  of  this  week?" 

"Oh,  why?"  said  Garth.  "To  go  where?  And  for 
how  long?  Ah,  I  know  I  ought  to  say:  'Certainly! 
Delighted!'  after  all  your  goodness  to  me.  But  I 
really  cannot!  You  don't  know  what  life  was  without 
you,  when  you  week-ended!  That  week-end  seemed 
months,  even  though  Brand  was  here.  It  is  your  own 
fault  for  making  yourself  so  indispensable. " 

Nurse  Rosemary  smiled.  "I  daresay  I  shall  not 
be  away  for  long,"  she  said.  "That  is,  if  you  want 
me,  I  can  return.  But,  Mr.  Dalmain,  I  intend  to-night 
to  write  that  letter  of  which  I  told  you.  I  shall  post  it 
to-morrow.  I  must  follow  it  up  almost  immediately. 
I  must  be  with  him  when  he  receives  it,  or  soon  after- 
wards. I  think — I  hope — he  will  want  me  at  once. 
This  is  Monday.    May  I  go  on  Thursday?" 

Poor  Garth  looked  blankly  dismayed. 

"Do  nurses,  as  a  rule,  leave  their  patients,  and  rush 
off  to  their  young  men  in  order  to  find  out  how  they 
have  liked  their  letters?"  he  inquired,  in  mock  protest. 

"Not  as  a  rule,  sir,"  replied  Nurse  Rosemary,  de- 
murely.   "But  this  is  an  exceptional  case. " 

"  I  shall  wire  to  Brand. " 

"He  will  send  you  a  more  efficient  and  more  dependable 
person." 

"Oh  you  wicked  little  thing!"  cried  Garth.  "If 
Miss  Champion  were  here,  she  would  shake  you!  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  nobody  could  fill  your  place!" 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  say  so,  sir,"  replied  Nurse 
20 


306  The  Rosary 

Rosemary,  meekly.  "  And  is  Miss  Champion  much 
addicted  to  shaking  people?" 

" Don't  call  me  'sir'!  Yes;  when  people  are  tiresome 
she  often  says  she  would  like  to  shake  them;  and  one 
has  a  mental  vision  of  how  their  teeth  would  chatter. 
There  is  a  certain  little  lady  of  our  acquaintance  whom 
we  always  call  '  Mrs.  Do-and-don't.'  She  isn't  in  our 
set ;  but  she  calls  upon  it ;  and  sometimes  it  asks  her  to 
lunch,  for  fun.  If  you  inquire  whether  she  likes  a  thing, 
she  says:  'Well,  I  do,  and  I  don't.'  If  you  ask  whether 
she  is  going  to  a  certain  function,  she  says:  '  Well,  I  am, 
and  I'm  not.'  And  if  you  send  her  a  note,  imploring  a 
straight  answer  to  a  direct  question,  the  answer  comes 
back:  'Yes  and  no.'  Miss  Champion  used  to  say  she 
would  like  to  take  her  up  by  the  scruff  of  her  feather  boa, 
and  shake  her,  asking  at  intervals :  '  Shall  I  stop  ? '  so  as  to 
wring  from  Mrs.  Do-and-don't  a  definite  affirmative,  for 
once." 

"  Could  Miss  Champion  carry  out  such  a  threat?  Is 
she  a  very  massive  person?" 

"Well,  she  could,  you  know;  but  she  wouldn't  She 
is  most  awfully  kind,  even  to  little  freaks  she  laughs 
at.  No,  she  isn't  massive.  That  word  does  not  de- 
scribe her  at  all.  But  she  is  large,  and  very  finely  de- 
veloped. Do  you  know  the  Venus  of  Milo?  Yes;  in  the 
Louvre.  I  am  glad  you  know  Paris.  Well,  just  imagine 
the  Venus  of  Milo  in  a  tailor-made  coat  and  skirt, — and 
you  have  Miss  Champion." 

Nurse  Rosemary  laughed,  hysterically.  Either  the 
Venus  of  Milo,  or  Miss  Champion,  or  this  combination 
of  both,  proved  too  much  for  her. 

"  Little  Dicky  Brand  summed  up  Mrs.  Do-and-don't 
rather  well,"  pursued  Garth.  "  She  was  calling  at  Wim- 
pole  Street,   on  Lady  Brand's  'at   home'   day.      And 


In  Lighter  Vein  307 

Dicky  stood  talking  to  me,  in  his  black  velvets  and 
white  waistcoat,  a  miniature  edition  of  Sir  Deryck. 
He  indicated  Mrs.  Do-and-don't  on  a  distant  lounge, 
and  remarked :  '  That  lady  never  knows;  she  always 
thinks.  I  asked  her  if  her  little  girl  might  come  to  my 
party,  and  she  said:  "I  think  so."  Now  if  she  had 
asked  me  if  /  was  coming  to  her  party,  I  should  have 
said:  "Thank  you;  I  am."  It  is  very  trying  when 
people  only  think  about  important  things,  such  as  little 
girls  and  parties;  because  their  thinking  never  amounts 
to  much.  It  does  not  so  much  matter  what  they  think 
about  other  things — the  weather,  for  instance;  because 
that  all  happens,  whether  they  think  or  not.  Mummie 
asked  that  lady  whether  it  was  raining  when  she  got 
here;  and  she  said:  "I  think  not."  I  can't  imagine  why 
Mummie  always  wants  to  know  what  her  friends  think 
about  the  weather.  I  have  heard  her  ask  seven  ladies 
this  afternoon  whether  it  is  raining.  Now  if  father  or  I 
wanted  to  know  whether  it  was  raining  we  should  just 
step  over  to  the  window,  and  look  out;  and  then  come 
back  and  go  on  with  really  interesting  conversation. 
But  Mummie  asks  them  whether  it  is  raining,  or  whether 
they  think  it  has  been  raining,  or  is  going  to  rain;  and 
when  they  have  told  her,  she  hurries  away  and  asks 
somebody  else.  I  asked  the  thinking  lady  in  the  feather 
thing,  whether  she  knew  who  the  father  and  mother 
were,  of  the  young  lady  whom  Cain  married;  and  she 
said:  "Well,  I  do;  and  I  don't."  I  said:  "If  you  do, 
perhaps  you  will  tell  me.  And  if  you  don't,  perhaps  you 
would  like  to  take  my  hand,  and  we  will  walk  over  to- 
gether and  ask  the  Bishop — the  one  with  the  thin  legs, 
and  the  gold  cross,  talking  to  Mummie."  But  she 
thought  she  had  to  go,  quite  in  a  hurry.  So  I  saw  her  off; 
and  then  asked  the  Bishop  alone.     Bishops  are  most 


308  The  Rosary 

satisfactory  kind  of  people;  because  they  are  quite  sure 
about  everything;  and  you  feel  safe  in  quoting  them 
to  Nurse.  Nurse  told  Marsdon  that  this  one  is  in 
•'sheep's  clothing,"  because  he  wears  a  gold  cross. 
I  saw  the  cross;  but  I  saw  no  sheep's  clothing.  I  was 
looking  out  for  the  kind  of  woolly  thing  our  new  curate 
wears  on  his  back  in  church.  Should  you  call  that 
' ' sheep's  clothing " ?  I  asked  father,  and  he  said :  "No. 
Bunny-skin."  And  mother  seemed  as  shocked  as  if 
father  and  I  had  spoken  in  church,  instead  of  just 
as  we  came  out.  And  she  said:  "It  is  a  B.A.  hood." 
Possibly  she  thinks  "baa"  is  spelled  with  only  one  "a." 
Anyway  father  and  I  felt  it  best  to  let  the  subject 
drop.'  " 

Nurse  Rosemary  laughed.  "How  exactly  like  Dicky," 
she  said.  "I  could  hear  his  grave  little  voice,  and 
almost  see  him  pull  down  his  small  waistcoat!" 

"Why,  do  you  know  the  little  chap?"  asked  Garth. 

"Yes,"  replied  Nurse  Rosemary;  "I  have  stayed 
with  them.  Talking  to  Dicky  is  an  education;  and 
Baby  Blossom  is  a  sweet  romp.  Here  comes  Simpson. 
How  quickly  the  evening  has  flown.  Then  may  I  be 
off  on  Thursday?" 

"I  am  helpless,"  said  Garth.  "I  cannot  say  'no.' 
But   suppose  you   do  not   come  back?" 

"Then  you  can  wire  to  Dr.  Brand." 

"I  believe  you  want  to  leave  me,"  said  Garth 
reproachfully. 

"I  do,  and  I  don't!"  laughed  Nurse  Rosemary;  and 
fled  from  his  outstretched  hands. 


When  Jane  had  locked  the  letter-bag  earlier  that 


In  Lighter  Vein  309 

evening,  and  handed  it  to  Simpson,  she  had  slipped 
in  two  letters  of  her  own.    One  was  addressed  to 

Georgina,  Duchess  of  Meldrum 

Portland  Place 

The  other,  to 

Sir  Deryck  Brand 

Wimpole  Street 
Both    were    marked:      Urgent.      If  absent,  forward 
immediately. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 


AN    INTERLUDE 


T 


^UESDAY    passed    uneventfully,     to    all    outward 


seeming. 


There  was  nothing  to  indicate  to  Garth  that  his 
secretary  had  sat  up  writing  most  of  the  night;  only 
varying  that  employment  by  spending  long  moments 
in  silent  contemplation  of  his  pictures,  which  had  found 
a  temporary  place  of  safety,  on  their  way  back  to  the 
studio,  in  a  deep  cupboard  in  her  room,  of  which  she  had 
the  key. 

If  Nurse  Rosemary  marked,  with  a  pang  of  tender 
compunction,  the  worn  look  on  Garth's  face,  telling 
how  mental  suffering  had  chased  away  sleep;  she  made 
no  comment  thereupon. 

Thus  Tuesday  passed,  in  uneventful  monotony. 

Two  telegrams  had  arrived  for  Nurse  Gray  in  the 
course  of  the  morning.  The  first  came  while  she  was 
reading  a  Times  leader  aloud  to  Garth.  Simpson  brought 
it  in,  saying:  "A  telegram  for  you,  miss." 

It  was  always  a  source  of  gratification  to  Simpson 
afterwards,  that,  almost  from  the  first,  he  had  been 
led,  by  what  he  called  his  "un/zaided  MntuMtion, "  to 
drop  the  "nurse,"  and  address  Jane  with  the  con- 
ventional "miss."  In  time  he  almost  convinced  him- 
self that  he  had  also  discerned  in  her  "a  Honourable"; 
but  this,  Margery  Graem  firmly  refused  to  allow.  She 
herself  had  had  her  "doots, "  and  kept  them  to  herself; 
but  all  Mr.  Simpson's  surmisings  had  been  freely  ex- 
pressed and  reiterated  in  the  housekeeper's  room;  and 

310 


An  Interlude  311 

never  a  word  about  any  honourable  bad  passed  Mr. 
Simpson's  lips.  Therefore  Mrs.  Graem  berated  him  for 
being  so  ready  to  "go  astray  and  speak  lies."  But 
Maggie,  the  housemaid,  had  always  felt  sure  Mr.  Simp- 
son knew  more  than  he  said.  "Said  more  than  he  knew, 
you  mean,"  prompted  old  Margery.  "No,"  retorted 
Maggie,  " I  know  what  I  said;  and  I  said  what  I  meant. " 
"You  may  have  said  what  you  meant,  but  you  did  not 
mean  what  you  knew,"  insisted  Margery;  "and  if  any- 
body says  another  word  on  the  matter,  I  shall  say  grace 
and  dismiss  the  table, "  continued  old  Margery,  exercis- 
ing the  cl6ture,  by  virtue  of  her  authority,  in  a  way  which 
Simpson  and  Maggie,  who  both  wished  for  cheese, 
afterwards  described  as   "mean." 

But  this  was  long  after  the  uneventful  Tuesday, 
when  Simpson  entered,  with  a  salver;  and,  finding  Jane 
enveloped  in  the  Times,  said:     "A  telegram  for  you, 


miss. " 


Nurse  Rosemary  took  it;  apologised  for  the  inter- 
ruption, and  opened  it.  It  was  from  the  duchess,  and 
ran  thus: 

Most  inconvenient,  as  you  very  well  know;  but  am 
leaving  Euston  to-night.  Will  await  further  orders  at 
Aberdeen. 

Nurse  Rosemary  smiled,  and  put  the  telegram  into 
her  pocket.    "No  answer,  thank  you,  Simpson." 

"Not  bad  news,  I  hope?"  asked  Garth. 

"No,"  replied  Nurse  Rosemary;  "but  it  makes  my 
departure  on  Thursday  imperative.  It  is  from  an 
old  aunt  of  mine,  who  is  going  to  my  'young  man's' 
home.  I  must  be  with  him  before  she  is,  or  there  will 
be  endless  complications. " 

"I  don't  believe  he  will  ever  let  you  go  again,  when 
once  he  gets  you  back,"  remarked  Garth,  moodily. 


312  The  Rosary 

"You  think  not?"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  with  a 
tender  little  smile,  as  she  took  up  the  paper,  and  resumed 
her  reading. 

The  second  telegram  arrived  after  luncheon.  Garth 
was  at  the  piano,  thundering  Beethoven's  Funeral 
March  on  the  Death  of  a  Hero.  The  room  was  being 
rent  asunder  by  mighty  chords;  and  Simpson's  smug 
face  and  side-whiskers  appearing  noiselessly  in  the  door- 
way, were  an  insupportable  anticlimax.  Nurse  Rose- 
mary laid  her  finger  on  her  lips;  advanced  with  her 
firm  noiseless  tread,  and  took  the  telegram.  She  re- 
turned to  her  seat  and  waited  until  the  hero's  obsequies 
were  over,  and  the  last  roll  of  the  drums  had  died  away. 
Then  she  opened  the  orange  envelope.  And  as  she 
opened  it,  a  strange  thing  happened.  Garth  began  to 
play  The  Rosary.  The  string  of  pearls  dropped  in  liquid 
sound  from  his  fingers;  and  Nurse  Rosemary  read  her 
telegram.  It  was  from  the  doctor,  and  said:  Special 
license  easily  obtained.  Flower  and  I  will  come  whenever 
you  wish.    Wire  again. 

The  Rosary  drew  to  a  soft  melancholy  close. 

"What  shall  I  play  next?"  asked  Garth,  suddenly. 

"Veni,  Creator  Spiritus,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary;  and 
bowed  her  head  in  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

"something  is  going  to  happen!" 

WEDNESDAY   dawned;   an   ideal   First   of   May. 
Garth  was  in  the  garden  before  breakfast.     Jane 
heard  him  singing,  as  he  passed  beneath  her  window. 

"  It  is  not  mine  to  sing  the  stately  grace, 
The  great  soul  beaming  in  my  lady's  face. " 

She  leaned  out. 

He  was  walking  below  in  the  freshest  of  white  flannels; 
his  step  so  light  and  elastic;  his  every  movement  so 
lithe  and  graceful;  the  only  sign  of  his  blindness  the 
Malacca  cane  he  held  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  occa- 
sionally touched  the  grass  border,  or  the  wall  of  the 
house.  She  could  only  see  the  top  of  his  dark  head.  It 
might  have  been  on  the  terrace  at  Shenstone,  three  years 
before.  She  longed  to  call  from  the  window:  "Darling 
— my  Darling!    Good  morning!    God  bless  you  to-day." 

Ah  what  would  to-day  bring  forth; — the  day  when 
her  full  confession,  and  explanation,  and  plea  for  pardon, 
would  reach  him?  He  was  such  a  boy  in  many  ways; 
so  light-hearted,  loving,  artistic,  poetic,  irrepressible; 
ever  young,  in  spite  of  his  great  affliction.  But  where  his 
manhood  was  concerned ;  his  love ;  his  right  of  choice  and 
of  decision;  of  maintaining  a  fairly-formed  opinion,  and 
setting  aside  the  less  competent  judgment  of  others;  she 
knew  him  rigid,  inflexible.  His  very  pain  seemed  to 
cool  him,  from  the  molten  lover,  to  the  bar  of  steel. 

As  Jane  knelt  at  her  window  that  morning,  she  had 

313   _ 


3J4  The  Rosary 

not  the  least  idea  whether  the  evening  would  find  hef 
travelling  to  Aberdeen,  to  take  the  night  mail  souths 
or  at  home  forever  in  the  heaven  of  Garth's  love. 
And  down  below  he  passed  again,  still  singing: 

"  But  mine  it  is  to  follow  in  her  train; 
Do  her  behests  in  pleasure  or  in  pain; 
Burn  at  her  altar  love's  sweet  frankincense, 
And  worship  her  in  distant  reverence." 

"Ah,  beloved!"  whispered  Jane,  "not  'distant.'  If 
you  want  her,  and  call  her,  it  will  be  to  the  closest  close- 
ness love  can  devise.  No  more  distance  between  you 
and  me." 

And  then,  in  the  curious  way  in  which  inspired  words 
will  sometimes  occur  to  the  mind  quite  apart  from  their 
inspired  context,  and  bearing  a  totally  different  meaning 
from  that  which  they  primarily  bear,  these  words  came 
to  Jane:  "For  He  is  our  peace,  Who  hath  made  both  one, 
and  hath  broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition 
between  us  .  .  .  that  He  might  reconcile  both  ...  by 
the  cross."  "Ah,  dear  Christ!"  she  whispered.  "If 
Thy  cross  could  do  this  for  Jew  and  Gentile,  may  not  my 
boy's  heavy  cross,  so  bravely  borne,  do  it  for  him  and  for 
me?    So  shall  we  come  at  last,  indeed,  to  '  kiss  the  cross. ' " 

The  breakfast  gong  boomed  through  the  house.  Simp- 
son loved  gongs.  He  considered  them  " /^aristocratic. " 
He  always  gave  full  measure. 

Nurse  Rosemary  went  down  to  breakfast. 

Garth  came  in,  through  the  French  window,  hum- 
ming "the  thousand  beauties  that  I  know  so  well." 
He  was  in  his  gayest,  most  inconsequent  mood.  He 
had  picked  a  golden  rosebud  in  the  conservatory  and 
wore  it  in  his  buttonhole.  He  carried  a  yellow  rose  in 
his  hand. 


"Something  is  Going  to  Happen"  315 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Rosemary,"  he  said.  "What 
a  May  Day!  Simpson  and  I  were  up  with  the  lark; 
weren't  we,  Simpson?  Poor  Simpson  felt  like  a  sort 
of  '  Queen  of  the  May, '  when  my  electric  bell  trilled  in 
his  room,  at  5  a.m.  But  I  couldn't  stay  in  bed.  I 
woke  with  my  something-is-going-to-happen  feeling; 
and  when  I  was  a  little  chap  and  woke  with  that,  Mar- 
gery used  to  say:  'Get  up  quickly  then,  Master  Garth, 
and  it  will  happen  all  the  sooner. '  You  ask  her  if  she 
didn't,  Simpson.  Miss  Gray,  did  you  ever  learn:  'If 
you're  waking  call  me  early,  call  me  early,  mother  dear'? 
I  always  hated  that  young  woman!  I  should  think,  in 
her  excited  state,  she  would  have  been  waking  long 
before  her  poor  mother,  who  must  have  been  worn  to  a 
perfect  rag,  making  all  the  hussy's  May  Queen-clothes, 
overnight. " 

Simpson  had  waited  to  guide  him  to  his  place  at  the 
table.    Then  he  removed  the  covers,  and  left  the  room. 

As  soon  as  he  had  closed  the  door  behind  him,  Garth 
leaned  forward,  and  with  unerring  accuracy  laid  the 
opening  rose  upon  Nurse  Rosemary's  plate. 

"Roses  for  Rosemary,"  he  said.  "Wear  it,  if  you 
are  sure  the  young  man  would  not  object.  I  have 
been  thinking  about  him  and  the  aunt.  I  wish  you 
could  ask  them  both  here,  instead  of  going  away  on 
Thursday.  We  would  have  the  '  maddest,  merriest  time ! ' 
I  would  play  with  the  aunt,  while  you  had  it  out  with  the 
young  man.  And  I  could  easily  keep  the  aunt  away  from 
nooks  and  corners,  because  my  hearing  is  sharper  than 
any  aunt's  eyes  could  be,  and  if  you  gave  a  gentle  cough, 
I  would  promptly  clutch  hold  of  auntie,  and  insist  upon 
being  guided  in  the  opposite  direction.  And  I  would 
take  her  out  in  the  motor;  and  you  and  the  young  man 
could  have  the  gig.    And  then  when  all  was  satisfactorily 


316  The  Rosary 

settled,  we  could  pack  them  off  home,  and  be  by  ourselves 
again.  Ah,  Miss  Gray,  do  send  for  them,  instead  of 
leaving  me  on  Thursday. " 

"Mr.  Dalmain, "  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  reprovingly, 
as  she  leaned  forward  and  touched  his  right  hand  with 
the  rim  of  his  saucer,  "this  May-Day  morning  has  gone 
to  your  head.  I  shall  send  for  Margery.  She  may  have 
known  the  symptoms,  of  old. " 

"It  is  not  that,"  said  Garth.  He  leaned  forward 
and  spoke  confidentially.  "Something  is  going  to 
happen  to-day,  little  Rosemary.  Whenever  I  feel 
like  this,  something  happens.  The  first  time  it  occurred, 
about  twenty-five  years  ago,  there  was  a  rocking-horse 
in  the  hall,  when  I  ran  downstairs!  I  have  never  for- 
gotten my  first  ride  on  that  rocking-horse.  The  fearful 
joy  when  he  went  backward;  the  awful  plunge  when  he 
went  forward;  and  the  proud  moment  when  it  was 
possible  to  cease  clinging  to  the  leather  pommel.  I 
nearly  killed  the  cousin  who  pulled  out  his  tail.  I 
thrashed  him,  then  and  there,  with  the  tail;  which  was 
such  a  silly  thing  to  do ;  because,  though  it  damaged  the 
cousin,  it  also  spoiled  the  tail.  The  next  time — ah,  but 
I  am  boring  you!" 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  politely;  "but 
I  want  you  to  have  some  breakfast;  and  the  letters  will 
be  here  in  a  few  minutes. " 

He  looked  so  brown  and  radiant,  this  dear  delightful 
boy,  with  his  gold-brown  tie,  and  yellow  rose.  She  was 
conscious  of  her  pallor,  and  oppressive  earnestness,  as 
she  said:  "The  letters  will  be  here. " 

"Oh,  bother  the  letters!"  cried  Garth.  "Let's  have 
a  holiday  from  letters  on  May  Day !  You  shall  be  Queen 
of  the  May;  and  Margery  shall  be  the  old  mother.  I 
will  be  Robin,  with  the  breaking  heart,  leaning  on  the 


"Something  is  Going  to  Happen"  317 

bridge  beneath  the  hazel  tree;  and  Simpson  can  be  the 
'bolder  lad.'  And  we  will  all  go  and  'gather  knots  of 
flowers,  and  buds,  and  garlands  gay. '  " 

"Mr.  Dalmain, "  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  laughing, 
in  spite  of  herself,  "you  really  must  be  sensible,  or  I  shall 
go  and  consult  Margery.  I  have  never  seen  you  in  such 
a  mood. " 

"You  have  never  seen  me,  on  a  day  when  something 
was  going  to  happen, "  said  Garth;  and  Nurse  Rosemary 
made  no  further  attempt  to  repress  him. 

After  breakfast,  he  went  to  the  piano,  and  played 
two-steps,  and  rag-time  music,  so  infectiously,  that  Simp- 
son literally  tripped  as  he  cleared  the  table;  and  Nurse 
Rosemary,  sitting  pale  and  preoccupied,  with  a  pile  of 
letters  before  her,  had  hard  work  to  keep  her  feet  still. 

Simpson  had  two-stepped  to  the  door  with  the  cloth, 
and  closed  it  after  him.  Nurse  Rosemary's  remarks 
about  the  post-bag,  and  the  letters,  had  remained  unan- 
swered. "Shine  little  glowworm  glimmer"  was  pealing 
gaily  through  the  room,  like  silver  bells, — when  the  door 
opened,  and  old  Margery  appeared,  in  a  black  satin 
apron,  and  a  blue  print  sunbonnet.  She  came  straight 
to  the  piano,  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on  Garth's 
arm. 

"Master  Garthie, "  she  said,  "on  this  lovely  May 
morning,  will  you  take  old  Margery  up  into  the  woods?" 

Garth's  hands  dropped  from  the  keys.  "Of  course  I 
will,  Margie, "  he  said.  "And,  I  say  Margie,  something  is 
going  to  happen. " 

"I  know  it,  laddie,"  said  the  old  woman,  tenderly; 
and  the  expression  with  which  she  looked  into  the 
blind  face  filled  Jane's  eyes  with  tears.  "I  woke  with 
it  too,  Master  Garthie;  and  now  we  will  go  into  the 
woods,  and  listen  to  the  earth,  and  trees,  and  flowers, 


3i8  The  Rosary 

and  they  will  tell  us  whether  it  is  for  joy,  or  for  sorrow. 
Come,  my  own  laddie." 

Garth  rose,  as  in  a  dream.  Even  in  his  blindness 
he  looked  so  young,  and  so  beautiful,  that  Jane's 
watching  heart  stood  still. 

At  the  window  he  paused.  "Where  is  that  secretary 
person? "  he  said,  vaguely.  "She  kept  trying  to  shut  me 
up." 

"I  know  she  did,  laddie,"  said  old  Margery,  curt- 
seying apologetically  towards  Jane.  "You  see  she 
does  not  know  the  'something-is-going-to-happen-to- 
day '  awakening. " 

"Ah,  doesn't  she?"  thought  Jane,  as  they  disap- 
peared through  the  window.  "But  as  my  Garth  has 
gone  off  his  dear  head,  and  been  taken  away  by  his 
nurse,  the  thing  that  is  going  to  happen,  can't  happen 
just  yet."  And  Jane  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  very 
softly  ran  through  the  accompaniment  of  The  Rosary. 
Then, — after  shading  her  eyes  on  the  terrace,  and  mak- 
ing sure  that  a  tall  white  figure  leaning  on  a  short  dark 
one,  had  almost  reached  the  top  of  the  hill, — still  more 
softly,  she  sang  it. 

Afterwards  she  went  for  a  tramp  on  the  moors,  and 
steadied  her  nerve  by  the  rapid  swing  of  her  walk,  and 
the  deep  inbreathing  of  that  glorious  air.  Once  or 
twice  she  took  a  telegram  from  her  pocket,  stood  still 
and  read  it;  then  tramped  on,  to  the  wonder  of  the 
words :  "  Special  license  easily  obtained. "  Ah,  the  license 
might  be  easy  to  obtain;  but  how  about  his  forgiveness? 
That  must  be  obtained  first.  If  there  were  only  this 
darling  boy  to  deal  with,  in  his  white  flannels  and  yellow 
roses,  with  a  May-Day  madness  in  his  veins,  the  license 
might  come  at  once ;  and  all  he  could  wish  should  happen 
without  delay.     But  this  is  a  passing  phase  of  Garth. 


"Something  is  Going  to  Happen"  319 

What  she  has  to  deal  with  is  the  white-faced  man,  who 
calmly  said:  " I  accept  the  cross, "  and  walked  down  the 
village  church  leaving  her — for  all  these  years.  Loving 
her,  as  he  loved  her;  and  yet  leaving  her,  without  word 
or  sign,  for  three  long  years.  To  him,  was  the  confession  j 
his  would  be  the  decision;  and,  somehow,  it  did  not  sur- 
prise her,  when  she  came  down  to  luncheon,  a  little  lates, 
to  find  him  seated  at  the  table. 

"  Miss  Gray, "  he  said  gravely,  as  he  heard  her  enter, 
"I  must  apologise  for  my  behaviour  this  morning.  I 
was  what  they  call  up  here  'fey.'  Margery  under- 
stands the  mood;  and  together  she  and  I  have  listened 
to  kind  Mother  Earth,  laying  our  hands  on  her  sym- 
pathetic softness,  and  she  has  told  us  her  secrets.  Then 
I  lay  down  under  the  fir  trees  and  slept;  and  awakened 
calm  and  sane,  and  ready  for  what  to-day  must  bring. 
For  it  will  bring  something.  That  is  no  delusion.  It  is  a 
day  of  great  things.    That  much,  Margery  knows,  too.'* 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  Nurse  Rosemary,  tentatively, 
"there  may  be  news  of  interest  in  your  letters. " 

"Ah,"  said  Garth,  "I  forgot.  We  have  not  even 
opened  this  morning's  letters.  Let  us  take  time  for 
them  immediately  after  lunch.    Are  there  many?" 

"Quite  a  pile,  "  said  Nurse  Rosemary. 

"Good.    We  will  work  soberly  through  them." 

Half  an  hour  later  Garth  was  seated  in  his  chair, 
calm  and  expectant;  his  face  turned  towards  his  secre- 
tary. He  had  handled  his  letters,  and  amongst  them  he 
had  found  one  sealed;  and  the  seal  was  a  plumed  helmet, 
with  visor  closed.  Nurse  Rosemary  saw  him  pale,  as  his 
fingers  touched  it.  He  made  no  remark;  but,  as  before, 
slipped  it  beneath  the  rest,  that  it  might  come  up  for 
reading,  last  of  all. 

When  the  others  were  finished,  and  Nurse  Rosemary 


32o  The  Rosary 

took  up  this  letter,  the  room  was  very  still.  They 
were  quite  alone.  Bees  hummed  in  the  garden.  The 
scent  of  flowers  stole  in  at  the  window.  But  no  one 
disturbed  their  solitude. 

Nurse  Rosemary  took  up  the  envelope. 

"Mr.  Dalmain,  here  is  a  letter,  sealed  with  scarlet 
wax.    The  seal  is  a  helmet  with  visor " 

"I  know,"  said  Garth.  "You  need  not  describe  it 
further.    Kindly  open  it. " 

Nurse  Rosemary  opened  it.  "It  is  a  very  long  letter, 
Mr.  Dalmain. " 

"Indeed?    Will  you  please  read  it  to  me,  Miss  Gray. " 

A  tense  moment  of  silence  followed.  Nurse  Rose- 
mary lifted  the  letter;  but  her  voice  suddenly  refused 
to  respond  to  her  will.  Garth  waited  without  further 
word. 

Then  Nurse  Rosemary  said:  "Indeed,  sir,  it  seems 
a  most  private  letter.    I  find  it  difficult  to  read  it  to  you. " 

Garth  heard  the  distress  in  her  voice,  and  turned  to  her 
kindly. 

"Never  mind,  my  dear  child.  It  in  no  way  concerns 
you.  It  is  a  private  letter  to  me;  but  my  only  means  of 
hearing  it  is  through  your  eyes,  and  from  your  lips. 
Besides,  the  lady,  whose  seal  is  a  plumed  helmet,  can 
have  nothing  of  a  very  private  nature  to  say  to  me.  " 

"Ah,  but  she  has,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  brokenly. 

Garth  considered  this  in  silence. 

Then:  "Turn  over  the  page,"  he  said,  "and  tell  me 
the  signature." 

"There  are  many  pages,  "  said  Nurse  Rosemary. 

"Turn  over  the  pages  then,"  said  Garth,  sternly. 
*'Do  not  keep  me  waiting.    How  is  that  letter  signed?" 

"  Your  wife, "  whispered  Nurse  Rosemary. 

There   was   a   petrifying   quality   about   the   silence 


"Something  is  Going  to  Happen,:  321 

which  followed.  It  seemed  as  if  those  two  words, 
whispered  into  Garth's  darkness,  had  turned  him  to 
stone. 

At  last  he  stretched  out  his  hand.  "Will  you  give 
me  that  letter,  if  you  please,  Miss  Gray?  Thank  you. 
I  wish  to  be  alone  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  I  shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  sit  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  stop  any  one  from  coming  into  this  room.  I 
must  be  undisturbed.  At  the  end  of  that  time  kindly 
return." 

He  spoke  so  quietly  that  Jane's  heart  sank  within  her. 
Some  display  of  agitation  would  have  been  reassuring. 
This  was  the  man  who,  bowing  his  dark  head  towards 
the  crucifixion  window,  said:  "I  accept  the  cross." 
This  was  the  man,  whose  footsteps  never  once  faltered 
as  he  strode  down  the  aisle,  and  left  her.  This  was  the 
man,  who  had  had  the  strength,  ever  since,  to  treat 
that  episode  between  her  and  himself,  as  completely 
closed;  no  word  of  entreaty;  no  sign  of  remembrance; 
no  hint  of  reproach.  And  this  was  the  man  to  whom 
she  had  signed  herself:  "Your  wife." 

In  her  whole  life,  Jane  had  never  known  fear.  She 
knew  it  now. 

As  she  silently  rose  and  left  him,  she  stole  one  look 
at  his  face.  He  was  sitting  perfectly  still;  the  letter 
in  his  hand.  He  had  not  turned  his  head  toward  her 
as  he  took  it.  His  profile  might  have  been  a  beautiful 
carving  in  white  ivory.  There  was  not  the  faintest 
tinge  of  colour  in  his  face*;  just  that  ivory  pallor,  against 
the  ebony  lines  of  his  straight  brows,  and  smooth  dark 
hair. 

Jane  softly  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her„ 

Then  followed  the  longest  fifteen  minutes  she  had 

ever  known.     She  realised  what  a  tremendous  conflict 


21 


322  The  Rosary 

was  in  progress  in  that  quiet  room.  Garth  was  arriving 
at  his  decision  without  having  heard  any  of  her  argu- 
ments. By  the  strange  fatality  of  his  own  insistence, 
he  had  heard  only  two  words  of  her  letter,  and  those  the 
crucial  words;  the  two  words  to  which  the  whole  letter 
carefully  led  up.  They  must  have  revealed  to  him 
instantly,  what  the  character  of  the  letter  would  be; 
and  what  was  the  attitude  of  mind  towards  himself,  of 
the  woman  who  wrote  them. 

Jane  paced  the  dining-room  in  desperation,  remem- 
bering the  hours  of  thought  which  had  gone  to  the 
compiling  of  sentences,  cautiously  preparing  his  mind 
to  the  revelation  of  the  signature. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  her  mental  perturbation, 
there  came  to  her  the  remembrance  of  a  conversation 
between  Nurse  Rosemary  and  Garth  over  the  pictures. 
The  former  had  said:  "Is  she  a  wife?"  And  Garth  had 
answered:  "Yes."  Jane  had  instantly  understood  what 
that  answer  revealed  and  implied.  Because  Garth  had 
so  felt  her  his  during  those  wonderful  moments  on  the 
terrace  at  Shenstone,  that  he  could  look  up  into  her  face 
and  say,  "My  wife" — not  as  an  interrogation,  but  as  an 
absolute  statement  of  fact, — he  still  held  her  this,  as  in- 
dissolubly  as  if  priest,  and  book,  and  ring,  had  gone  to 
the  wedding  of  their  union.  To  him,  the  union  of  souls 
came  before  all  else ;  and  if  that  had  taken  place,  all  that 
might  follow  was  but  the  outward  indorsement  of  an 
accomplished  fact.  Owing  to  her  fear,  mistrust,  and 
deception,  nothing  had  followed.  Their  lives  had  been 
sundered;  they  had  gone  different  ways.  He  regarded 
himself  as  being  no  more  to  her  than  any  other  man  of  her 
acquaintance.  During  these  years  he  had  believed, 
that  her  part  in  that  evening's  wedding  of  souls  had 
existed  in  his  imagination,  only;  and  had  no  binding 


"Something  is  Going  to  Happen"  323 

effect  upon  her.  But  his  remained.  Because  those 
words  were  true  to  him  then,  he  had  said  them;  and, 
because  he  had  said  them,  he  would  consider  her  his 
wife,  through  life, — and  after.  It  was  the  intuitive 
understanding  of  this,  which  had  emboldened  Jane 
so  to  sign  her  letter.  But  how  would  he  recon- 
cile that  signature  with  the  view  of  her  conduct 
which  he  had  all  along  taken,  without  ever  having 
the  slightest  conception  that  there  could  be  any 
other? 

Then  Jane  remembered,  with  comfort,  the  irresist= 
ible  appeal  made  by  Truth  to  the  soul  of  the  artist; 
truth  of  line;  truth  of  colour;  truth  of  values;  and,  in 
the  realm  of  sound,  truth  of  tone,  of  harmony,  of  render- 
ing, of  conception.  And  when  Nurse  Rosemary  had 
said  of  his  painting  of  "The  Wife":  "It  is  a  triumph  of 
art";  Garth  had  replied:  "It  "is  a  triumph  of  truth." 
And  Jane's  own  verdict  on  the  look  he  had  seen  and 
depicted  was:  "It  is  true — yes,  it  is  true!"  Will  he  not 
realise  now  the  truth  of  that  signature;  and,  if  he  realises 
it,  will  he  not  be  glad  in  his  loneliness,  that  his  wife 
should  come  to  him;  unless  the  confessions  and  admis= 
sions  of  the  letter  cause  him  to  put  her  away  as  wholly 
unworthy? 

Suddenly  Jane  understood  the  immense  advantage 
of  the  fact  that  he  would  hear  every  word  of  the  rest 
of  her  letter,  knowing  the  conclusion,  which  she  herself 
could  not  possibly  have  put  first.  She  saw  a  Higher 
Hand  in  this  arrangement;  and  said,  as  she  watched 
the  minutes  slowly  pass:  "He  hath  broken  down  the 
middle  wall  of  partition  between  us";  and  a  sense  of 
calm  assurance  descended,  and  garrisoned  her  soul  with 
peace. 

The  quarter  of  an  hour  was  over. 


324  The  Rosary 

Jane  crossed  the  hall  with  firm,  though  noiseless, 
step;  stood  a  moment  on  the  threshold  relegating  her- 
self completely  to  the  background;  then  opened  the 
dloor;  and  Nurse  Rosemary  re-entered  the  library. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


"love  never  faileth" 


GARTH  was  standing  at  the  open  window,  when 
Nurse  Rosemary  re-entered  the  library;  and  he 
did  not  turn,  immediately. 

She  looked  anxiously  for  the  letter,  and  saw  it  laid 
ready  on  her  side  of  the  table.  It  bore  signs  of  having 
been  much  crumpled;  looking  almost  as  a  letter  might 
appear  which  had  been  crushed  into  a  ball,  flung  into 
the  waste-paper  basket,  and  afterwards  retrieved.  It 
had,  however,  been  carefully  smoothed  out;  and  lay 
ready  to  her  hand. 

When  Garth  turned  from  the  window  and  passed  to 
his  chair,  his  face  bore  the  signs  of  a  great  struggle* 
He  looked  as  one  who,  sightless,  has  yet  been  making 
frantic  efforts  to  see.  The  ivory  pallor  was  gone.  His 
face  was  flushed;  and  his  thick  hair,  which  grew  in 
beautiful  curves  low  upon  his  forehead  and  temples,, 
and  was  usually  carefully  brushed  back  in  short-cropped 
neatness,  was  now  ruffled  and  disordered.  But  his 
voice  was  completely  under  control,  as  he  turned  towards 
his  secretary. 

"My  dear  Miss  Gray,"  he  said,  "we  have  a  difficult 
task  before  us.  I  have  received  a  letter,  which  it  is 
essential  I  should  hear.  I  am  obliged  to  ask  you  to 
read  it  to  me,  because  there  is  absolutely  no  one  else 
to  whom  I  can  prefer  such  a  request.  I  cannot  but 
know  that  it  will  be  a  difficult  and  painful  task  for  yoti„ 
feeling  yourself  an  intermediary  between  two  wounded 
and  sundered  hearts.     May  I  make  it  easier,  my  dear 

325 


326  The  Rosary 

little  girl,  by  assuring  you  that  I  know  of  no  one  in 
this  world  from  whose  lips  I  could  listen  to  the  contents 
®f  that  letter  with  less  pain ;  and,  failing  my  own,  there 
are  no  eyes  beneath  which  I  could  less  grudgingly  let  it 
pass,  there  is  no  mind  I  could  so  unquestioningly  trust, 
to  judge  kindly,  both  of  myself  and  of  the  writer ;  and  to 
forget  faithfully,  all  which  was  not  intended  to  come 
within  the  knowledge  of  a  third  person." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Dalmain,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary. 

Garth  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  shielding  his  face 
with  his  hand. 

"Now,  if  you  please,"  he  said.  And,  very  clearly 
and  quietly,  Nurse  Rosemary  began  to  read. 

"Dear  Garth,  As  you  will  not  let  me  come  to  you, 
so  that  I  could  say,  between  you  and  me  alone,  that 
which  must  be  said,  I  am  compelled  to  write  it.  It  is 
your  own  fault,  Dal;  and  we  both  pay  the  penalty. 
For  how  can  I  write  to  you  freely  when  I  know,  that 
as  you  listen,  it  will  seem  to  you  of  every  word  I  am 
writing,  that  I  am  dragging  a  third  person  into  that 
which  ought  to  be,  most  sacredly,  between  you  and 
me  alone.  And  yet,  I  must  write  freely;  and  I  must 
make  you  fully  understand;  because  the  whole  of  your 
future  life  and  mine  will  depend  upon  your  reply  to 
this  letter.  I  must  write  as  if  you  were  able  to  hold 
the  letter  in  your  own  hands,  and  read  it  to  yourself. 
Therefore,  if  you  cannot  completely  trust  your  secre- 
tary, with  the  private  history  of  your  heart  and  mine, 
■  bid  her  give  it  you  back  without  turning  this  first  page; 
(and  let  me  come  myself,  Garth,  and  tell  you  all  the  rest. " 

"That  is  the  bottom  of  the  page,"  said  Nurse  Rose- 
mary; and  waited. 

Garth  did  not  remove  his  hand.  "I  do  completely 
trust;  and  she  must  not  come,"  he  said. 


"Love  Never  Faileth"  327 

Nurse  Rosemary  turned  the  page,  and  went  on  reading. 

"I  want  you  to  remember,  Garth,  that  every  word 
I  write,  is  the  simple  unvarnished  truth.  If  you  look 
back  over  your  remembrance  of  me,  you  will  admit 
that  I  am  not  naturally  an  untruthful  person,  nor  did  I 
ever  take  easily  to  prevarication.  But,  Garth,  I  told  you 
one  lie;  and  that  fatal  exception  proves  the  rule  of 
perfect  truthfulness,  which  has  always  otherwise  held, 
between  you  and  me;  and,  please  God,  always  will  hold. 
The  confession  herein  contained,  concerns  that  one  lie; 
and  I  need  not  ask  you  to  realise  how  humbling  it  is  to 
my  pride  to  have  to  force  the  hearing  of  a  confession 
upon  the  man  who  has  already  refused  to  admit  me  to  a 
visit  of  friendship.  You  will  remember  that  I  am  not 
naturally  humble;  and  have  a  considerable  amount  of 
proper  pride;  and,  perhaps,  by  the  greatness  of  the  effort 
I  have  had  to  make,  you  will  be  able  to  gauge  the  great- 
ness of  my  love.  God  help  you  to  do  so — my  darling; 
my  beloved;  my  poor  desolate  boy!" 

Nurse  Rosemary  stopped  abruptly ;  for,  at  this  sudden 
mention  of  love,  and  at  these  words  of  unexpected 
tenderness  from  Jane,  Garth  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and 
taken  two  steps  towards  the  window ;  as  if  to  escape  from 
something  too  immense  to  be  faced.  But,  in  a  moment 
he  recovered  himself,  and  sat  down  again,  completely 
hiding  his  face  with  his  hand. 

Nurse  Rosemary  resumed  the  reading  of  the  letter. 

"Ah,  what  a  wrong  I  have  done,  both  to  you,  and  to 
myself!  Dear,  you  remember  the  evening  on  the  ter- 
race at  Shenstone,  when  you  asked  me  to  be — when 
you  called  me — when  I  was — your  wife?  Garth,  I 
leave  this  last  sentence  as  it  stands,  with  its  two  attempts 
to  reach  the  truth.  I  will  not  cross  them  out,  but  leave 
them  to  be  read  to  you;  for,  you  see  Garth,  I  finally 


328  The  Rosary 

arrived!  I  was  your  wife.  I  did  not  understand  it  then,: 
I  was  intensely  surprised;  unbelievably  inexperienced  in 
matters  of  feeling ;  and  bewildered  by  the  flood  of  sensa- 
tion which  swept  me  off  my  feet  and  almost  engulfed  me. 
But  even  then  I  knew  that  my  soul  arose  and  proclaimed 
you  mate  and  master.  And  when  you  held  me,  and  your 
dear  head  lay  upon  my  heart,  I  knew,  for  the  first  time 
the  meaning  of  the  word  ecstasy;  and  I  could  have 
asked  no  kinder  gift  of  heaven,  than  to  prolong  those 
moments  into  hours. " 

Nurse  Rosemary's  quiet  voice  broke,  suddenly;  and 
the  reading  ceased. 

Garth  was  leaning  forward,  his  head  buried  in  his 
hands.  A  dry  sob  rose  in  his  throat,  just  at  the  very 
moment  when  Nurse  Rosemary's  voice  gave  way. 

Garth  recovered  first.  Without  lifting  his  head,  with 
a  gesture  of  protective  affection  and  sympathy,  he 
stretched  his  hand  across  the  table. 

"Poor  little  girl,"  he  said,  "I  am  so  sorry.  It  is 
rough  on  you.  If  only  it  had  come  when  Brand  was 
here!  I  am  afraid  you  must  go  on;  but  try  to  read 
without  realising.    Leave  the  realising  to  me. " 

And  Nurse  Rosemary  read  on. 

"When  you  lifted  your  head  in  the  moonlight  and 
gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  me — Ah,  those  dear  eyes! — 
your  look  suddenly  made  me  self-conscious.  There 
swept  over  me  a  sense  of  my  own  exceeding  plainness, 
and  of  how  little  there  was  in  what  those  dear  eyes  saw, 
to  provide  reason  for  that  adoring  look.  Overwhelmed 
with  a  shy  shame  I  pressed  your  head  back  to  the  place 
where  the  eyes  would  be  hidden;  and  I  realise  now  what 
a  different  construction  you  must  have  put  upon  that 
action.  Garth,  I  assure  you,  that  when  you  lifted  your 
head  the  second  time,  and  said,  'My  wife,'  it  was  the 


"Love  Never  Faileth"  329 

first  suggestion  to  my  mind  that  this  wonderful  thing 
which  was  happening  meant — marriage.  I  know  it  must 
seem  almost  incredible,  and  more  like  a  child  of  eighteen, 
than  a  woman  of  thirty.  But  you  must  remember,  all 
my  dealings  with  men  up  to  that  hour  had  been  hand- 
shakes, heartiest  comradeship,  and  an  occasional  clap 
on  the  shoulder  given  and  received.  And  don't  forget, 
dear  King  of  my  heart,  that,  until  one  short  week 
before,  you  had  been  amongst  the  boys  who  called  me 
'  good  old  Jane, '  and  addressed  me  in  intimate  con- 
versation as  'my  dear  fellow'!  Don't  forget  that  I 
had  always  looked  upon  you  as  years  younger  than 
myself;  and  though  a  strangely  sweet  tie  had  grown 
up  between  us,  since  the  evening  of  the  concert  at 
Overdene,  I  had  never  realised  it  as  love.  Well — ■ 
you  will  remember  how  I  asked  for  twelve  hours  to 
consider  my  answer;  and  you  yielded,  immediately; 
(you  were  so  perfect,  all  the  time,  Garth)  and  left  me, 
when  I  asked  to  be  alone;  left  me,  with  a  gesture  I 
have  never  forgotten.  It  was  a  revelation  of  the  way 
in  which  the  love  of  a  man  such  as  you  exalts  the  woman 
upon  whom  it  is  outpoured.  The  hem  of  that  gown  has 
been  a  sacred  thing  to  me,  ever  since.  It  is  always  with 
me,  though  I  never  wear  it. — A  detailed  account  of  the 
hours  which  followed,  I  shall  hope  to  give  you  some  day, 
my  dearest.  I  cannot  write  it.  Let  me  hurl  on  to  paper, 
in  all  its  crude  ugliness,  the  miserable  fact  which  parted 
us;  turning  our  dawning  joy  to  disillusion  and  sadness. 
Garth — it  was  this.  I  did  not  believe  your  love  would 
stand  the  test  of  my  plainness.  I  knew  what  a  wor- 
shipper of  beauty  you  were;  how  you  must  have  it,  in 
one  form  or  another,  always  around  you.  I  got  out  my 
diary  in  which  I  had  recorded  verbatim  our  conversation 
about  the  ugly  preacher,  whose  face  became  illumined 


33°  The  Rosary 

into  beauty,  by  the  inspired  glory  within.  And  you 
added  that  you  never  thought  him  ugly  again;  but  he 
would  always  be  plain.  And  you  said  it  was  not  the  sort 
of  face  one  would  want  to  have  always  before  one  at 
meals;  but  that  you  were  not  called  upon  to  undergo 
that  discipline,  which  would  be  sheer  martyrdom  to 
you. 

"I  was  so  interested,  at  the  time;  and  so  amused 
at  the  unconscious  way  in  which  you  stood  and  ex- 
plained this,  to  quite  the  plainest  woman  of  your  acquain- 
tance, that  I  recorded  it  very  fully  in  my  journal. — 
Alas!  On  that  important  night,  I  read  the  words,  over 
and  over,  until  they  took  morbid  hold  upon  my  brain. 
Then — such  is  the  self-consciousness  awakened  in  a 
woman  by  the  fact  that  she  is  loved  and  sought — I 
turned  on  all  the  lights  around  my  mirror,  and  critically 
and  carefully  examined  the  face  you  would  have  to  see 
every  day  behind  your  coffee-pot  at  breakfast,  for  years 
and  years,  if  I  said  '  Yes, '  on  the  morrow.  Darling,  I  did 
not  see  myself  through  your  eyes,  as,  thank  God,  I  have 
done  since.  And  /  did  not  trust  your  love  to  stand  the  test. 
It  seemed  to  me,  I  was  saving  both  of  us  from  future 
disappointment  and  misery,  by  bravely  putting  away 
present  joy,  in  order  to  avoid  certain  disenchantment. 
My  beloved,  it  will  seem  to  you  so  coolly  calculating,  and 
so  mean;  so  unworthy  of  the  great  love  you  were  even 
then  lavishing  upon  me.  But  remember,  for  years, 
your  remarkable  personal  grace  and  beauty  had  been 
a  source  of  pleasure  to  me;  and  I  had  pictured  you 
wedded  to  Pauline  Lister,  for  instance,  in  her  dazzling 
whiteness,  and  soft  radiant  youth.  So  my  morbid  self- 
consciousness  said:  'What!  This  young  Apollo,  tied  to 
my  ponderous  plainness ;  growing  handsomer  every  year, 
while  I  grow  older  and  plainer?'    Ah,  darling!    It  sounds 


11  Love  Never  Faileth  "  331 

so  unworthy,  now  we  know  what  our  love  ts.  But  it 
sounded  sensible  and  right  that  night;  and  at  last,  with 
a  bosom  that  ached,  and  arms  that  hung  heavy  at  the 
thought  of  being  emptied  of  all  that  joy,  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  say  'no. '  Ah,  believe  me,  I  had  no  idea  what  it 
already  meant  to  you.  I  thought  you  would  pass  on  at 
once  to  another  fancy ;  and  transfer  your  love  to  one  more 
able  to  meet  your  needs,  at  every  point.  Honestly, 
Garth,  I  thought  I  should  be  the  only  one  left  desolate. — 
Then  came  the  question:  how  to  refuse  you.  I  knew 
if  I  gave  the  true  reason,  you  would  argue  it  away, 
and  prove  me  wrong,  with  glowing  words,  before  which 
I  should  perforce  yield.  So — as  I  really  meant  not  to  let 
you  run  the  risk,  and  not  to  run  it  myself — I  lied  to  you, 
my  beloved.  To  you,  whom  my  whole  being  acclaimed 
King  of  my  heart,  Master  of  my  will;  supreme  to  me,  in 
love  and  life, — to  you  I  said:  'I  cannot  marry  a  mere 
boy. '  Ah,  darling !  I  do  not  excuse  it.  I  do  not  defend  it. 
I  merely  confess  it ;  trusting  to  your  generosity  to  admit, 
that  no  other  answer  would  have  sent  you  away.  Ah, 
your  poor  Jane,  left  desolate!  If  you  could  have  seen 
her  in  the  little  church,  calling  you  back;  retracting 
and  promising;  listening  for  your  returning  footsteps, 
in  an  agony  of  longing.  But  my  Garth  is  not  made 
of  the  stuff  which  stands  waiting  on  the  door-mat  of 
a  woman's  indecision. 

"The  lonely  year  which  followed  so  broke  my  nerve, 
that  Deryck  Brand  told  me  I  was  going  all  to  pieces, 
and  ordered  me  abroad.  I  went,  as  you  know;  and  in 
other,  and  more  vigorous,  surroundings,  there  came  to 
me  a  saner  view  of  life.  In  Egypt  last  March,  on  the 
summit  of  the  Great  Pyramid,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  I  could  live  without  you  no  longer.  I  did  not 
see  myself  wrong;  but  I  yearned  so  for  your  love,  and 


332  The  Rosary 

to  pour  mine  upon  you,  my  beloved,  that  I  concluded 
it  was  worth  the  risk.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  take  the 
next  boat  home,  and  send  for  you.  Then — oh,  my 
own  boy — I  heard.  I  wrote  to  you;  and  you  would  not 
let  me  come. 

"Now  I  know  perfectly  well,  that  you  might  say: 
'She  did  not  trust  me  when  I  had  my  sight.  Now  that 
I  cannot  see,  she  is  no  longer  afraid. '  Garth,  you  might 
say  that;  but  it  would  not  be  true.  I  have  had  ample 
proof  lately  that  I  was  wrong,  and  ought  to  have  trusted 
you  all  through.  What  it  is,  I  will  tell  you  later.  All  I 
can  say  now  is:  that,  if  your  dear  shining  eyes  could  see, 
they  would  see,  now,  a  woman  who  is,  trustfully  and  un- 
questioningly,  all  your  own.  If  she  is  doubtful  of  her 
face  and  figure,  she  says  quite  simply:  'They  pleased 
him;  and  they  are  just  his.  I  have  no  further  right  to 
criticise  them.  If  he  wants  them,  they  are  not  mine,  but 
his. '  Darling,  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  how  I  have  arrived 
at  this  assurance.  But  I  have  had  proofs  beyond  words 
of  your  faithfulness  and  love. 

"The  question,  therefore,  simply  resolves  itself 
into  this:  Can  you  forgive  me?  If  you  can  forgive 
me,  I  can  come  to  you  at  once.  If  this  thing  is  past 
forgiveness,  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  stay  away. 
But,  oh,  my  own  Dear, — the  bosom  on  which  once 
you  laid  your  head  waits  for  you  with  the  longing 
ache  of  lonely  years.  If  you  need  it,  do  not  thrust  it 
from  you. 

"Write  me  one  word  by  your  own  hand:  'Forgiven.' 
It  is  all  I  ask.  When  it  reaches  me,  I  will  come  to  you 
at  once.  Do  not  dictate  a  letter  to  your  secretary.  I 
could  not  bear  it.  Just  write — if  you  can  truly  write  it — 
'  Forgiven ';  and  send  it  to 

"Your  Wife." 


i  > 


Love  Never  Faileth"  333 


The  room  was  very  still,  as  Nurse  Rosemary  finished 
reading;  and,  laying  down  the  letter,  silently  waited. 
She  wondered  for  a  moment  whether  she  could  get 
herself  a  glass  of  water,  without  disturbing  him;  but 
decided  to  do  without  it. 

At  last  Garth  lifted  his  head. 

"She  has  asked  me  to  do  a  thing  impossible,"  he  said; 
and  a  slow  smile  illumined  his  drawn  face. 

Jane  clasped  her  hands  upon  her  breast. 

"Can  you  not  write  'forgiven'?  asked  Nurse  Rose- 
mary, brokenly. 

"No,"  said  Garth.  "I  cannot.  Little  girl,  give  me  a 
sheet  of  paper,  and  a  pencil. " 

Nurse  Rosemary  placed  them  close  to  his  hand. 

Garth  took  up  the  pencil.  He  groped  for  the  paper; 
felt  the  edges  with  his  left  hand;  found  the  centre  with 
his  fingers;  and,  in  large  firm  letters,  wrote  one  word. 

"Is  that  legible?"  he  asked,  passing  it  across  to  Nurse 
Rosemary. 

"Quite  legible,"  she  said;  for  she  answered  before  it 
was   blotted   by   her   tears. 

Instead  of  "forgiven,"  Garth  had  written:  "Loved." 

"Can  you  post  it  at  once?"  Garth  asked,  in  a  low, 
eager  voice.  "And  she  will  come — oh,  my  God,  she 
will  come!  If  we  catch  to-night's  mail,  she  may  be  here 
the  day  after  to-morrow!" 

Nurse  Rosemary  took  up  the  letter;  and,  by  an  almost 
superhuman  effort,  spoke  steadily. 

"Mr.  Dalmain,"  she  said;  "there  is  a  postscript 
to  this  letter.  It  says:  'Write  to  The  Palace  Hotel, 
Aberdeen.'" 

Garth  sprang  up,  his  whole  face  and  figure  alive  with 
excitement. 

"In    Aberdeen?"    he    cried.      "Jane,    in    Aberdeen! 


334  The  Rosary 

Oh,  my  God!  If  she  gets  this  paper  to-morrow  morning, 
she  may  be  here  any  time  in  the  day.  Jane!  Jane! 
Dear  little  Rosemary,  do  you  hear?  Jane  will  come 
to-morrow!  Didn't  I  tell  you  something  was  going  to 
happen?  You  and  Simpson  were  too  British  to  under- 
stand; but  Margery  knew;  and  the  woods  told  us  it  was 
Joy  coming  through  Pain.  Could  that  be  posted  at  once, 
Miss  Gray?" 

The  May-Day  mood  was  upon  him  again.  His  face 
shone.  His  figure  was  electric  with  expectation.  Nurse 
Rosemary  sat  at  the  table  watching  him;  her  chin  in 
her  hands.  A  tender  smile  dawned  on  her  lips,  out  of 
keeping  with  her  supposed  face  and  figure;  so  full  was 
it  of  the  glorious  expectation  of  a  mature  and  perfect 
love. 

"I  will  go  to  the  post-office  myself,  Mr.  Dalmain, M 
she  said.  "  I  shall  be  glad  of  the  walk;  and  I  can  be  back 
by  tea-time." 

At  the  post-office  she  did  not  post  the  word  in  Garth's 
handwriting.  That  lay  hidden  in  her  bosom.  But  she 
sent  off  two  telegrams.    The  first  to 

The  Duchess  of  Meldrum, 

Palace  Hotel,  Aberdeen. 
"  Come  here  by  5.50  train  without  fail  this  evening." 

The  second  to 

Sir  Deryck  Brand, 

Wimpole  Street,  London. 
" All  is  right." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

NURSE   ROSEMARY   HAS   HER   REWARD 

"  J\/lR>  DALMAIN,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  with  pa- 
IVl  tient  insistence,  "I  really  do  want  you  to  sit 
down,  and  give  your  mind  to  the  tea-table.  How  can  you 
remember  where  each  thing  is  placed,  if  you  keep  jumping 
up,  and  moving  your  chair  into  different  positions?  And 
last  time  you  pounded  the  table  to  attract  my  attention, 
which  was  already  anxiously  fixed  upon  you,  you  nearly 
knocked  over  your  own  tea,  and  sent  floods  of  mine  into 
the  saucer.  If  you  cannot  behave  better,  I  shall  ask 
Margery  for  a  pinafore,  and  sit  you  up  on  a  high  chair!" 

Garth  stretched  his  legs  in  front  of  him,  and  his 
arms  over  his  head;  and  lay  back  in  his  chair,  laughing 
joyously. 

"Then  I  should  have  to  say:  'Please,  Nurse,  may  I 
get  down?'  What  a  cheeky  little  thing  you  are  becom- 
ing! And  you  used  to  be  quite  oppressively  polite.  I 
suppose  you  would  answer:  'If  you  say  your  grace 
nicely,  Master  Garth,  you  may.'  Do  you  know  the 
story  of  'Tommy,  you  should  say  Your  Grace'?" 

"You  have  told  it  to  me  twice  in  the  last  forty-eight 
hours,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary,  patiently. 

"Oh,  what  a  pity!  I  felt  so  like  telling  it  now.  If 
you  had  really  been  the  sort  of  sympathetic  person 
Sir  Deryck  described,  you  would  have  said:  'No;  and 
I  should  so  love   to  hear  it!'  " 

"No;  and  I  should  so  love  to  hear  it!"  said  Nurse 
Rosemary. 

"Too  late!     That  sort  of  thing,  to  have  any  value 

335 


336  The  Rosary- 

should  be  spontaneous.  It  need  not  be  true;  but  it 
must  be  spontaneous.  But,  talking  of  a  high  chair, — 
when  you  say  those  chaffy  things  in  a  voice  like  Jane's, 
and  just  as  Jane  would  have  said  them — oh,  my  wig! — 
Do  you  know,  that  is  the  duchess's  only  original  little 
swear.  All  the  rest  are  quotations.  And  when  she  says : 
'My  wig!'  we  all  try  not  to  look  at  it.  It  is  usually 
slightly  awry.  The  toucan  tweaks  it.  He  is  so  very 
loving,  dear  bird!" 

"Now  hand  me  the  buttered  toast, "  said  Nurse  Rose- 
mary; "and  don't  tell  me  any  more  naughty  stories 
about  the  duchess.  No!  That  is  the  thin  bread-and- 
butter.  I  told  you  you  would  lose  your  bearings.  The 
toast  is  in  a  warm  plate  on  your  right.  Now  let  us  make 
believe  I  am  Miss  Champion,  and  hand  it  to  me,  as 
nicely  as  you  will  be  handing  it  to  her,  this  time 
to-morrow." 

"It  is  easy  to  make  believe  you  are  Jane,  with  that 
voice,"  said  Garth;  "and  yet — I  don't  know.  I  have 
never  really  associated  you  with  her.  One  little  sentence 
of  old  Rob's  made  all  the  difference  to  me.  He  said  you 
had  fluffy  floss-silk  sort  of  hair.  No  one  could  ever 
imagine  Jane  with  fluffy  floss-silk  sort  of  hair!  And  I 
believe  that  one  sentence  saved  the  situation.  Otherwise, 
your  voice  would  have  driven  me  mad,  those  first  days. 
As  it  was,  I  used  to  wonder  sometimes  if  I  could  possibly 
bear  it.  You  understand  why,  now ;  don't  you?  And  yet, 
in  a  way,  it  is  not  like  hers.  Hers  is  deeper ;  and  she  often 
speaks  with  a  delicious  kind  of  drawl,  and  uses  heaps  of 
slang;  and  you  are  such  a  very  proper  little  person;  and 
possess  what  the  primers  call  '  perfectly  correct  diction. ' 
What  fun  it  would  be  to  hear  you  and  Jane  talk  together! 
And  yet — I  don't  know.  I  should  be  on  thorns,  all  the 
time." 


Nurse  Rosemary  Has  Her  Reward  337 

"Why?" 

"I  should  be  so  awfully  afraid  lest  you  should  not 
like  one  another.  You  see,  you  have  really,  in  a  way, 
been  more  to  me  than  any  one  else  in  the  world;  and 
she — well,  she  is  my  world, "  said  Garth,  simply.  "And 
I  should  be  so  afraid  lest  she  should  not  fully  appreciate 
you ;  and  you  should  not  quite  understand  her.  She  has 
a  sort  of  way  of  standing  and  looking  people  up  and  down, 
and  women  hate  it;  especially  pretty  fluffy  little  women. 
They  feel  she  spots  all  the  things  that  come  off." 

"Nothing  of  mine  comes  off,"  murmured  Nurse 
Rosemary,  "excepting  my  patient,  when  he  will  not 
stay  on  his  chair." 

"Once,"  continued  Garth,  with  the  gleeful  enjoy- 
ment in  his  voice  which  always  presaged  a  story  in 
which  Jane  figured,  "there  was  a  fearfully  silly  little 
woman  staying  at  Overdene,  when  a  lot  of  us  were 
there.  We  never  could  make  out  why  she  was  included 
in  one  of  the  duchess's  'best  parties,'  except  that  the 
dear  duchess  vastly  enjoyed  taking  her  off,  and  telling 
stories  about  her;  and  we  could  not  appreciate  the 
cleverness  of  the  impersonation,  unless  we  had  seen  the 
original.  She  was  rather  pretty,  in  a  fussy,  curling-tongs, 
wax-doll  sort  of  way ;  but  she  never  could  let  her  appear- 
ance alone,  or  allow  people  to  forget  it.  Almost  every 
sentence  she  spoke,  drew  attention  to  it.  We  got  very 
sick  of  it,  and  asked  Jane  to  make  her  shut  up.  But  Jane 
said:  'It  doesn't  hurt  you,  boys;  and  it  pleases  her.  Let 
her  be. '  Jane  was  always  extra  nice  to  people,  if  she  sus- 
pected they  were  asked  down  in  order  to  make  sport  for 
the  duchess  afterwards.  Jane  hated  that  sort  of  thing. 
She  couldn't  say  much  to  her  aunt ;  but  we  had  to  be  very 
careful  how  we  egged  the  duchess  on,  if  Jane  was  within 
hearing.    Well — one  evening,  after  tea,  a  little  group  of 


22 


338  The  Rosary 

us  were  waiting  around  the  fire  in  the  lower  hall,  to  talk 
to  Jane.  It  was  Christmas  time.  The  logs  looked  so 
jolly  on  the  hearth.  The  red  velvet  curtains  were  drawn 
right  across,  covering  the  terrace  door  and  the  windows 
on  either  side.  Tommy  sat  on  his  perch,  in  the  centre  of 
the  group,  keeping  a  keen  lookout  for  cigarette  ends. 
Outside,  the  world  was  deep  in  snow;  and  that  wonderful 
silence  reigned;  making  the  talk  and  laughter  within  all 
the  more  gay  by  contrast —  you  know,  that  penetrating 
silence;  when  trees,  and  fields,  and  paths,  are  covered 
a  foot  thick  in  soft  sparkling  whiteness.  I  always 
look  forward,  just  as  eagerly,  each  winter  to  the  first 
sight — ah,  I  forgot!  .  .  .  Fancy  never  seeing  snow  again ! 
.  .  .  Never  mind.  It  is  something  to  remember  having 
seen  it ;  and  I  shall  hear  the  wonderful  snow-silence  more 
clearly  than  ever.  Perhaps  before  other  people  pull  up 
the  blinds,  I  shall  be  able  to  say:  'There's  been  a  fall  of 
snow  in  the  night.'  What  was  I  telling  you?  Yes,  I 
remember.  About  little  Mrs.  Fussy.  Well — all  the 
women  had  gone  up  to  dress  for  dinner;  excepting  Jane, 
who  never  needed  more  than  half  an  hour;  and  Fussy, 
who  was  being  sprightly,  in  a  laboured  way ;  and  fancied 
herself  the  centre  of  attraction  which  kept  us  congregated 
in  the  hall.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  were  waiting  to  tell 
Jane  some  private  news  we  had  just  heard  about  a  young 
chap  in  the  guards,  who  was  in  fearful  hot  water  for 
ragging.  His  colonel  was  an  old  friend  of  Jane's,  and  we 
thought  she  could  put  in  a  word,  and  improve  matters 
for  Billy.  So  Mrs.  Fussy  was  very  much  de  trop,  and 
didn't  know  it.  Jane  was  sitting  with  her  back  to 
all  of  us,  her  feet  on  the  fender,  and  her  skirt  turned 
up  over  her  knees.  Oh,  there  was  another  one,  under- 
neath ;  a  handsome  silk  thing,  with  rows  of  little  frills, — 
which  you  would  think  should  have  gone  on  outside. 


Nurse  Rosemary  Has  Her  Reward  339 

But  Jane's  best  things  are  never  paraded;  always  hidden . 
I  don't  mean  clothes,  now;  but  her  splendid  self.  Well — 
little  Fussy  was  'chatting' — she  never  talked — about 
herself  and  her  conquests;  quite  unconscious  that  we  all 
wished  her  at  Jericho.  Jane  went  on  reading  the  evening 
paper;  but  she  felt  the  atmosphere  growing  restive. 
Presently — ah,  but  I  must  not  tell  you  the  rest.  I  have 
just  remembered.  Jane  made  us  promise  never  to  repeat 
it.  She  thought  it  detrimental  to  the  other  woman.  But 
we  just  had  time  for  our  confab;  and  Jane  caught  the 
evening  post  with  the  letter  which  got  Billy  off  scot- 
free;  and  yet  came  down  punctually  to  dinner,  better 
dressed  than  any  of  them.  We  felt  it  rather  hard  luck 
to  have  to  promise;  because  we  had  each  counted  on 
being  the  first  to  tell  the  story  to  the  duchess.  But,  you 
know,  you  always  have  to  do  as  Jane  says." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  I  can't  explain  why.  If  you 
knew  her,  you  would  not  need  to  ask.  Cake,  Miss 
Gray?" 

"Thank  you.    Right,  this  time. " 

"There!  That  is  exactly  as  Jane  would  have  said: 
'Right,  this  time.'  Is  it  not  strange  that  after  having 
for  weeks  thought  your  voice  so  like  hers,  to-morrow 
I  shall  be  thinking  her  voice  so  like  yours?" 

"Oh.no,  you  will  not,"  said  Nurse  Rosemary.  "When 
she  is  with  you,  you  will  have  no  thoughts  for  other 
people." 

"Indeed,  but  I  shall!"  cried  Garth.  "And,  dear 
little  Rosemary,  I  shall  miss  you,  horribly.  No  one — 
not  even  she — can  take  your  place.  And,  do  you  know, " 
he  leaned  forward,  and  a  troubled  look  clouded  the 
gladness  of  his  face,  "I  am  beginning  to  feel  anxious 
about  it.     She  has  not  seen  me  since  the  accident.    I  am 


34°  The  Rosary 

afraid  it  will  give  her  a  shock.  Do  you  think  she  will 
find  me  much  changed?" 

Jane  looked  at  the  sightless  face  turned  so  anxiously 
toward  her.  She  remembered  that  morning  in  his 
room,  when  he  thought  himself  alone  with  Dr.  Rob; 
and,  leaving  the  shelter  of  the  wall,  sat  up  to  speak, 
and  she  saw  his  face  for  the  first  time.  She  remem- 
bered turning  to  the  fireplace,  so  that  Dr.  Rob  should 
not  see  the  tears  raining  down  her  cheeks.  She  looked 
again  at  Garth — now  growing  conscious,  for  the  first 
time,  of  his  disfigurement;  and  then,  only  for  her  sake 
— and  an  almost  overwhelming  tenderness  gripped  her 
heart.  She  glanced  at  the  clock.  She  could  not  hold 
out  much  longer. 

"Is  it  very  bad?"  said  Garth;  and  his  voice  shook. 

"I  cannot  answer  for  another  woman, "  replied  Nurse 
Rosemary;  "but  I  should  think  your  face,  just  as  it  is, 
will  always  be  her  joy. " 

Garth  flushed;  pleased  and  relieved,  but  slightly 
surprised.  There  was  a  quality  in  Nurse  Rosemary's 
voice,  for  which  he  could  not  altogether  account. 

"But  then,  she  will  not  be  accustomed  to  my  blind 
ways,"  he  continued.  "I  am  afraid  I  shall  seem  so 
helpless  and  so  blundering.  She  has  not  been  in  Sight- 
less Land,  as  you  and  I  have  been.  She  does  not  know 
all  our  plans  of  cords,  and  notches,  and  things.  Ah, 
little  Rosemary!  Promise  not  to  leave  me  to-morrow. 
I  want  Her — only  God,  knows  how  I  want  her;  but  I 
begin  to  be  half  afraid.  It  will  be  so  wonderful,  for  the 
great  essentials ;  but,  for  the  little  every-day  happenings, 
which  are  so  magnified  by  the  darkness,  oh,  my  kind 
unseen  guide,  how  I  shall  need  you.  At  first,  I  thought 
it  lucky  you  had  settled  to  go,  just  when  she  is  coming ; 
but  now,  just  because  she  is  coming,  I  cannot  let  you  go. 


Nurse  Rosemary  Has  Her  Reward  341 

Having  her  will  be  wonderful  beyond  words ;  but  it  will 
not  be  the  same  as  having  you." 

Nurse  Rosemary  was  receiving  her  reward,  and  she 
appeared  to  find  it  rather  overwhelming. 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  said,  gently:  "Don't 
excite  yourself  over  it,  Mr.  Dalmain.  Believe  me,  when 
you  have  been  with  her  for  five  minutes,  you  will  find  it 
just  the  same  as  having  me.  And  how  do  you  know  she 
has  not  also  been  in  Sightless  Land?  A  nurse  would  do 
that  sort  of  thing,  because  she  was  very  keen  on  her 
profession,  and  on  making  a  success  of  her  case.  The 
woman  who  loves  you  would  do  it  for  love  of  you. " 

"It  would  be  like  her,"  said  Garth;  and  leaned  back, 
a  look  of  deep  contentment  gathering  on  his  face.  "Oh, 
Jane!    Jane!    She  is  coming!    She  is  coming ! " 

Nurse  Rosemary  looked  at  the  clock. 

"Yes;  she  is  coming,"  she  said;  and  though  her 
voice  was  steady,  her  hands  trembled.  "And,  as  it 
is  our  last  evening  together  under  quite  the  same  cir- 
cumstances as  during  all  these  weeks,  will  you  agree 
to  a  plan  of  mine?  I  must  go  upstairs  now,  and  do 
some  packing,  and  make  a  few  arrangements.  But  will 
you  dress  early?  I  will  do  the  same;  and  if  you  could 
be  down  in  the  library  by  half-past  six,  we  might  have 
some  music  before  dinner." 

"Why  certainly, "  said  Garth.  "  It  makes  no  difference 
to  me  at  what  time  I  dress;  and  I  am  always  ready  for 
music.  But,  I  say:  I  wistfyou  were  not  packing,  Miss 
Gray." 

"I  am  not  exactly  packing  up,"  replied  Nurse  Rose- 
mary.   "  I  am  packing  things  away. " 

"It  is  all  the  same,  if  it  means  leaving.  But  you 
have  promised  not  to  go  until  she  comes?" 

"I  will  not  go — until  she  comes." 


342  The  Rosary 

"And  you  will  tell  her  all  the  things  she  ought  to 
know?" 

"She  shall  know  all  /  know,  which  could  add  to  your 
comfort. " 

"And  you  will  not  leave  me,  until  I  am  really — well, 
getting  on  all  right?" 

"I  will  never  leave  you,  while  you  need  me,"  said 
Nurse  Rosemary.  And  again  Garth  detected  that 
peculiar  quality  in  her  voice.  He  rose,  and  came 
towards  where  he  heard  her  to  be  standing. 

"Do  you  know,  you  are  no  end  of  a  brick,"  he  said, 
with  emotion.  Then  he  held  out  both  hands  towards 
her.  "Put  your  hands  in  mine  just  for  once,  little 
Rosemary.    I  want  to  try  to  thank  you. " 

There  was  a  moment  of  hesitation.  Two  strong 
capable  hands — strong  and  capable,  though,  just  then, 
they  trembled — nearly  went  home  to  his;  but  were 
withdrawn  just  in  time.  Jane's  hour  was  not  yet.  This 
was  Nurse  Rosemary's  moment  of  triumph  and  success. 
It  should  not  be  taken  from  her. 

"This  evening,"  she  said,  softly,  "after  the  music, 
we  will — shake  hands.  Now  be  careful,  sir.  You  are 
stranded.  Wait.  Here  is  the  garden-cord,  just  to  your 
left.  Take  a  little  air  on  the  terrace;  and  sing  again  the 
lovely  song  I  heard  under  my  window  this  morning. 
And  now  that  you  know  what  it  is  that  is  'going  to 
happen,'  this  exquisite  May-Day  evening  will  fill  you 
with  tender  expectation.    Good-bye,  sir — for  an  hour." 

"What  has  come  to  little  Rosemary?"  mused  Garth, 
as  he  felt  for  his  cane,  in  its  corner  by  the  window.  "We 
could  not  have  gone  on  indefinitely  quite  as  we  have  been, 
since  she  came  in  from  the  post-office. " 

He  walked  on;  a  troubled  look  clouding  his  face. 
Suddenly   it   lifted,   and   he   stood   still,    and   laughed. 


Nurse  Rosemary  Has  Her  Reward  343 

"Duffer!"  he  said.  "Oh,  what  a  conceited  duffer! 
She  is  thinking  of  her  'young  man.'  She  is  going  to 
him  to-morrow;  and  her  mind  is  full  of  him;  just  as 
mine  is  full  of  Jane.  Dear,  good,  clever,  little  Rose- 
mary! I  hope  he  is  worthy  of  her.  No;  that  he  can- 
not be.  I  hope  he  knows  he  is  not  worthy  of  her.  That 
is  more  to  the  point.  I  hope  he  will  receive  her  as  she 
expects.  Somehow,  I  hate  letting  her  go  to  him.  Oh, 
hang  the  fellow! — as  Tommy  would  say. " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE  REVELATION  OF  THE  ROSARY 

SIMPSON  was  crossing  the  hall  just  before  half- 
past  six  o'clock.  He  had  left  his  master  in  the 
library.  He  heard  a  rustle  just  above  him;  and, 
looking  up,  saw  a  tall  figure  descending  the  wide  oak 
staircase. 

Simpson  stood  transfixed.  The  soft  black  evening- 
gown,  with  its  trailing  folds,  and  old  lace  at  the  bosom, 
did  not  impress  him  so  much  as  the  quiet  look  of  certainty 
and  power  on  the  calm  face  above  them. 

"Simpson,"  said  Jane,  "my  aunt,  the  Duchess  of 
Meldrum,  and  her  maid,  and  her  footman,  and  a  rather 
large  quantity  of  luggage,  will  be  arriving  from  Aber- 
deen, at  about  half-past  seven.  Mrs.  Graem  knows 
about  preparing  rooms;  and  I  have  given  James  orders 
for  meeting  the  train  with  the  brougham,  and  the 
luggage-cart.  The  duchess  dislikes  motors.  When 
her  Grace  arrives,  you  can  show  her  into  the  library. 
We  will  dine  in  the  dining-room  at  a  quarter  past 
eight.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Dalmain  and  myself  are  par- 
ticularly engaged  just  now,  and  must  not  be  disturbed 
on  any  account,  until  the  duchess's  arrival.  You 
quite  understand?" 

"Yes,  miss — m'lady, "  stammered  Simpson.  He  had 
been  boot-boy  in  a  ducal  household  early  in  his  career; 
and  he  considered  duchesses'  nieces  to  be  people  before 
whom  one  should  bow  down. 

Jane  smiled.  "  'Miss'  is  quite  sufficient,  Simpson," 
she  said;  and  swept  towards  the  librae . 

344 


The  Revelation  of  the  Rosary       345 

Garth  heard  her  enter,  and  close  the  door;  and  his 
quick  ear  caught  the  rustle  of  a  train. 

"Hullo,  Miss  Gray,"  he  said.   "Packed  your  uniform?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jane.     "I  told  you  I  was  packing." 

She  came  slowly  across  the  room,  and  stood  on  the 
hearth-rug  looking  down  at  him.  He  was  in  full  evening- 
dress,  just  as  at  Shenstone  on  that  memorable  night; 
and,  as  he  sat  well  back  in  his  deep  arm-chair,  one  knee 
crossed  over  the  other,  she  saw  the  crimson  line  of  his 
favourite  silk  socks. 

Jane  stood  looking  down  upon  him.  Her  hour  had 
come  at  last.  But  even  now  she  must,  for  his  sake,  be 
careful  and  patient. 

"I  did  not  hear  the  song,"  she  said. 

"No,"  replied  Garth.  "At  first,  I  forgot.  And  when 
I  remembered,  I  had  been  thinking  of  other  things,  and 
somehow — ah,  Miss  Gray!  I  cannot  sing  to-night.  My 
soul  is   dumb  with  longing." 

"I  know,"  said  Jane,  gently;  "and  I  am  going  to  sing 
to  you." 

A  faint  look  of  surprise  crossed  Garth's  face.  "Do 
you  sing?"  he  asked.  "Then  why  have  you  not  sung 
before?" 

"When  I  arrived,"  said  Jane,  "Dr.  Rob  asked  me 
whether  I  played.  I  said:  'A  little.'  Thereupon  he 
concluded  I  sang  a  little,  too;  and  he  forbade  me,  most 
peremptorily,  either  to  play  a  little,  or  sing  a  little,  to 
you.  He  said  he  did  not  want  you  driven  altogether 
mad." 

Garth  burst  out  laughing. 

"How  like  old  Robbie,"  he  said.  "And,  in  spite 
of  his  injunctions,  are  you  going  to  take  the  risk,  and 
'sing  a  little,'  to  me,  to-night?" 

"No,"  said  Jane.      "I  take  no  risks.     I  am  going 


346  The  Rosary 

to  sing  you  one  song.  Here  is  the  purple  cord,  at  yout 
right  hand.  There  is  nothing  between  you  and  the 
piano;  and  you  are  facing  towards  it.  If  you  want  to 
stop  me — you  can  come. " 

She  walked  to  the  instrument,  and  sat  down. 

Over  the  top  of  the  grand  piano,  she  could  see  him, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair ;  a  slightly  amused  smile  playing 
about  his  lips.  He  was  evidently  still  enjoying  the 
humour  of  Dr.  Rob's  prohibition. 

The  Rosary  has  but  one  opening  chord.  She  struck 
it ;  her  eyes  upon  his  face.  She  saw  him  sit  up,  instantly; 
a  look  of  surprise,  expectation,  bewilderment,  gathering 
there. 

Then  she  began  to  sing.  The  deep  rich  voice,  low 
and  vibrant,  as  the  softest  tone  of  'cello,  thrilled  into  the 
startled  silence. 

"  The  hours  I  spent  with  thee,  dear  heart, 
Are  as  a  string  of  pearls  to  me; 
I  count  them  over,  ev'ry  one  apart, 
My  rosary, — my  rosary. 

"Each  hour  a  pearl " 


Jane  got  no  further. 

Garth  had  risen.  He  spoke  no  word;  but  he  was 
coming  blindly  over  to  the  piano.  She  turned  on  the 
music-stool,  her  arms  held  out  to  receive  him.  Now 
he  had  found  the  woodwork.  His  hand  crashed  down 
upon  the  bass.  Now  he  had  found  her.  He  was  on  his 
knees,  his  arms  around  her.  Hers  enveloped  him — 
yearning,  tender,  hungry  with  the  repressed  longing  of 
all  those  hard  weeks. 

He  lifted  his  sightless  face  to  hers,  for  one  moment,, 
"You?"  he  said.    "  You?    You— all  the  time?" 

Then  he  hid  his  face  in  the  soft  lace  at  her  breast. 


The  Revelation  of  the  Rosary       347 

"Oh,  my  boy,  my  darling!"  said  Jane,  tenderly; 
holding  the  dear  head  close.  "Yes;  I,  all  the  time; 
all  the  time  near  him,  in  his  loneliness  and  pain.  Could 
I  have  stopped  away?  But,  oh,  Garth!  What  it  is, 
at  last  to  hold  you,  and  touch  you,  and  feel  you  here! 
.  .  .  Yes,  it  is  I.  Oh,  my  beloved,  are  you  not  quite 
sure?  Who  else  could  hold  you  thus?  .  .  .  Take  care, 
my  darling!  Come  over  to  the  couch,  just  here;  and  sit 
beside  me. " 

Garth  rose,  and  raised  her,  without  loosing  her;  and 
she  guided  herself  and  him  to  a  safer  seat  close  by. 
But  there  again  he  flung  himself  upon  his  knees,  and 
held  her;  his  arms  around  her  waist;  his  face  hidden 
in  the  shelter  of  her  bosom. 

"Ah,  darling,  darling,"  said  Jane  softly,  and  her 
hands  stole  up  behind  his  head,  with  a  touch  of  un- 
speakable protective  tenderness;  "it  has  been  so  sweet 
to  wait  upon  my  boy;  and  help  him  in  his  darkness; 
and  shield  him  from  unnecessary  pain;  and  be  always 
there,  to  meet  his  every  need.  But  I  could  not  come 
— myself — until  he  knew;  and  understood;  and  had 
forgiven — no,  not  'forgiven';  understood,  and  yet  still 
loved.  For  he  does  now  understand?  And  he  dees 
forgive?  .  .  .  Oh,  Garth!  .  .  .  Oh  hush,  my  darling! 
.  .  .  You  frighten  me!  .  .  .  No,  I  will  never  leave  you; 
never,  never!  .  .  .  Oh,  can't  you  understand,  my  be- 
loved? .  .  .  Then  I  must  tell  you  more  plainly.  Dar- 
ling,— do  be  still,  and  listen  Just  for  a  few  days  we 
must  be — as  we  have  been ;  only  my  boy  will  know  it  is  I 
who  am  near  him.  Aunt  'Gina  is  coming  this  evening. 
She  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour.  Then,  as  soon  as  possible 
we  will  get  a  special  license;  and  we  will  be  married, 
Garth;  and  then — "  Jane  paused;  and  the  man  who 
knelt  beside  her,  held  his  breath  to  listen — "and  then," 


348  The  Rosary 

continued  Jane  in  a  low  tender  voice,  which  gathered  in 
depth  of  sacred  mystery,  yet  did  not  falter — "then  it 
will  be  my  highest  joy,  to  be  always  with  my  husband, 
night  and  day." 

A  long  sweet  silence.  The  tempest  of  emotion  in 
her  arms  was  hushed  to  rest.  The  eternal  voice  of 
perfect  love  had  whispered:  "Peace,  be  still";  and  there 
was  a  great  calm. 

At  last  Garth  lifted  his  head.  "Always?  Always 
together?  "  he  said.    "Ah,  that  will  be  '  perpetual  light ! ' ' 


When  Simpson,  pale  with  importance,  flung  open 
the  library  door,  and  announced:  "Her  Grace,  the 
Duchess  of  Meldrum,"  Jane  was  seated  at  the  piano, 
playing  soft  dreamy  chords;  and  a  slim  young  man,  in 
evening  dress,  advanced  with  eager  hospitality  to  greet 
his  guest. 

The  duchess  either  did  not  see,  or  chose  to  ignore  the 
guiding  cord.  She  took  his  outstretched  hand  warmly 
in  both  her  own. 

"Goodness  gracious,  my  dear  Dal!  How  you  surprise 
me!  I  expected  to  find  you  blind!  And  here  you  are 
striding  about,  just  your  old  handsome  self!" 

"Dear  Duchess,"  said  Garth,  and  stooping,  kissed 
the  kind  old  hands  still  holding  his;  "I  cannot  see  you,  I 
am  sorry  to  say;  but  I  don't  feel  very  blind  to-night. 
My  darkness  has  been  lightened  by  a  joy  beyond 
expression." 

"Oh  ho!  So  that's  the  way  the  land  lies!  Now 
which  are  you  going  to  marry?  The  nurse, — who,  I 
gather,  is  a  most  respectable  young  person,  and  highly 
recommended;  or  that  hussy,  Jane;  who,  without  the 
smallest  compunction,  orders  her  poor  aunt  from  one 


The  Revelation  of  the  Rosary       349 


end  of  the  kingdom  to  the  other,  to  suit  her  own 
convenience?" 

Jane  came  over  from  the  piano,  and  slipped  her  hand 
through  her  lover's  arm. 

"Dear  Aunt  'Gina, "  she  said;  "you  know  you  loved 
coming;  because  you  enjoy  a  mystery,  and  like  being  a 
dear  old  'deus  ex  machina, '  at  the  right  moment.  And 
he  is  going  to  marry  them  both ;  because  they  both  love 
him  far  too  dearly  ever  to  leave  him  again;  and  he  seems 
to  think  he  cannot  do  without  either. " 

The  duchess  looked  at  the  two  radiant  faces;  one 
sightless;  the  other,  with  glad  proud  eyes  for  both;  and 
her  own  filled  with  tears. 

"Hoity-toity!"  she  said.  "Are  we  in  Salt  Lake 
City?  Well,  we  always  thought  one  girl  would  not 
do  for  Dal;  he  would  need  the  combined  perfections 
of  several;  and  he  appears  to  think  he  has  found  them. 
God  bless  you  both,  you  absurdly  happy  people;  and 
I  will  bless  you,  too;  but  not  until  I  have  dined.  Now, 
ring  for  that  very  nervous  person,  with  side- whiskers ; 
and  tell  him  I  want  my  maid,  and  my  room,  and  I 
want  to  know  where  they  have  put  my  toucan.  I 
had  to  bring  him,  Jane.  He  is  so  loving,  dear  bird! 
I  knew  you  would  think  him  in  the  way;  but  I  really 
could  not  leave  him  behind. " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

"in  the  face  of  this  congregation" 

THE  society  paragraphs  would  have  described  it  as 
"a  very  quiet  wedding,"  when  Garth  and  Jane,  a 
few  days  later,  were  pronounced  "man  and  wife  to- 
gether," in  the  little  Episcopal  church  among  the  hills. 

Perhaps,  to  those  who  were  present,  it  stands  out 
rather  as  an  unusual  wedding,  than  as  a  quiet  one. 

To  Garth  and  Jane  the  essential  thing  was  to  be 
married,  and  left  to  themselves,  with  as  little  delay 
as  possible.  They  could  not  be  induced  to  pay  any 
attention  to  details  as  to  the  manner  in  which  this 
desired  end  was  to  be  attained.  Jane  left  it  entirely 
to  the  doctor,  in  one  practical  though  casual  sentence: 
"Just  make  sure  it  is  valid,  Dicky;  and  send  us  in  the 
bills." 

The  duchess,  being  a  true  conservative,  early  began 
mentioning  veils,  orange-blossom,  and  white  satin;  but 
Jane  said:  "My  dear  Aunt!  Fancy  me — in  orange- 
blossom!  I  should  look  like  a  Christmas  pantomime. 
And  I  never  wear  veils,  even  in  motors;  and  white  satin 
is  a  form  of  clothing  I  have  always  had  the  wisdom  to 
avoid." 

"Then  in  what  do  you  intend  to  be  married,  unnatural 
girl?"  inquired  the  duchess. 

"In  whatever  I  happen  to  put  on,  that  morning," 
replied  Jane,  knotting  the  silk  of  a  soft  crimson  cord 
she  was  knitting;  and  glancing  out  of  the  window,  to 
where  Garth  sat  smoking,  on  the  terrace. 

"Have   you   a   time-table?"   inquired   her   Grace   of 

35o 


"In  the  Face  of  this  Congregation'    351c 

Meldrum,  with  dangerous  calmness.  "And  can  you 
send  me  to  the  station  this  afternoon?" 

"We  can  always  send  to  the  station,  at  a  moment's 
notice,"  said  Jane,  working  in  a  golden  strand,  and 
considering  the  effect.  "But  where  are  you  going, 
dear  Aunt  'Gina?  You  know  Deryck  and  Flower  arrive 
this  evening. " 

"I  am  washing  my  hands  of  you,  and  going  South," 
said  the  duchess,  wrathfully. 

"Don't  do  that,  dear,"  said  Jane,  placidly.  "You 
have  washed  your  hands  of  me  so  often;  and,  like  the 
blood  of  King  Duncan  of  Scotland,  I  am  upon  them 
still.  'All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this 
little  hand. '  "  Then,  raising  her  voice:  "Garth,  if  you 
want  to  walk,  just  give  a  call.  I  am  here,  talking  over 
my  trousseau  with  Aunt  'Gina. " 

"What  is  a  trousseau?"  came  back  in  Garth's  happy 
voice. 

"A  thing  you  get  into  to  be  married,"  said  Jane. 

"Then  let's  get  into  it  quickly,"  shouted  Garth,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"Dear  Aunt,"  said  Jane,  "let  us  make  a  compromise. 
I  have  some  quite  nice  clothes  upstairs,  including  Red- 
fern  tailor-mades,  and  several  uniforms.  Let  your  maid 
look  through  them,  and  whatever  you  select,  and  she 
puts  out  in  readiness  on  my  wedding  morning,  I  promise 
to  wear." 

This  resulted  in  Jane  appearing  at  the  church  in  a 
long  blue  cloth  coat  and  skirt,  handsomely  embroidered 
with  gold,  and  suiting  her  large  figure  to  perfection; 
a  deep  yellow  vest  of  brocaded  silk;  and  old  lace  ruffles 
at  neck  and  wrists. 

Garth  was  as  anxious  about  his  wedding  garments, 
as  Jane  had  been  indifferent  over  hers;  but  he  had  so 


352  The  Rosary 

often  been  in  requisition  as  best-man  at  town  weddings, 
that  Simpson  had  no  difficulty  in  turning  him  out 
in  the  acme  of  correct  bridal  attire.  And  very  handsome 
he  looked,  as  he  stood  waiting  at  the  chancel  steps;  not 
watching  for  his  bride;  but  obviously  listening  for  her; 
for,  as  Jane  came  up  the  church  on  Deryck's  arm,  Garth 
slightly  turned  his  head  and  smiled. 

The  duchess — resplendent  in  purple  satin  and  ermine, 
with  white  plumes  in  her  bonnet,  and  many  jewelled 
chains  depending  from  her,  which  rattled  and  tinkled, 
in  the  silence  of  the  church,  every  time  she  moved — 
was  in  a  front  pew  on  the  left,  ready  to  give  her  niece 
away. 

In  a  corresponding  seat,  on  the  opposite  side,  as  near 
as  possible  to  the  bridegroom,  sat  Margery  Graem, 
in  black  silk,  with  a  small  quilted  satin  bonnet,  and  a 
white  lawn  kerchief  folded  over  the  faithful  old  heart 
which  had  beaten  in  tenderness  for  Garth  since  his 
babyhood.  She  turned  her  head  anxiously,  every  time 
the  duchess  jingled;  but  otherwise  kept  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  marriage  service,  in  a  large-print  prayer-book  in 
her  lap.  Margery  was  not  used  to  the  Episcopal  service, 
and  she  had  her  "doots"  as  to  whether  it  could  possibly 
be  gone  through  correctly,  by  all  parties  concerned. 
In  fact  this  anxiety  of  old  Margery's  increased  so  pain- 
fully when  the  ceremony  actually  commenced,  that  it 
took  audible  form;  and  she  repeated  all  the  answers  of 
the  bridal  pair,  in  an  impressive  whisper,  after  them. 

Dr.  Rob,  being  the  only  available  bachelor,  did  duty 
as  best-man;  Jane  having  stipulated  that  he  should 
not  be  intrusted  with  the  ring ;  her  previous  observations 
leading  her  to  conclude  that  he  would  most  probably 
slip  it  unconsciously  on  to  his  finger,  and  then  search 
through  all  his  own  pockets  and  all  Garth's,  and  begin 


"In  the  Face  of  this  Congregation'    353 

taking  up  the  church  matting,  before  it  occurred  to  him 
to  look  at  his  hand.  Jane  would  not  have  minded  the 
diversion,  but  she  did  object  to  any  delay.  So  the  ring 
went  to  church  in  Garth's  waistcoat  pocket,  where  it  had 
lived  since  Jane  brought  it  out  from  Aberdeen;  and, 
without  any  fumbling  or  hesitation,  was  quietly  laid  by 
him  upon  the  open  book. 

Dr.  Rob  had  charge  of  the  fees  for  clerk,  verger, 
bell-ringers,  and  every  person,  connected  with  the  church, 
who  could  possibly  have  a  tip  pressed  upon  them. 
Garth  was  generous  in  his  gladness,  and  eager  to  do  all 
things  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  great  gift  made  iully 
his  that  day.  So  Dr.  Rob  was  well  provided  with  the 
wherewithal ;  and  this  he  jingled  in  his  pockets  as  soon  as 
the  exhortation  commenced,  and  his  interest  in  the  pro- 
ceedings resulted  in  his  fatal  habit  of  unconsciousness  of 
his  own  actions.  Thus  he  and  the  duchess  kept  up  a 
tinkling  duet,  each  hearing  the  other,  and  not  their  own 
sounds.  So  the  duchess  glared  at  Dr.  Rob;  and  Di.  Rob 
frowned  at  the  duchess ;  and  old  Margery  looked  tearfully 
at  both. 

Deryck  Brand,  the  tallest  man  in  the  church,  his  fine 
figure  showing  to  advantage  in  the  long  frock  coat  with 
silk  facings,  which  Lady  Brand  had  pronounced  indis- 
pensable to  the  occasion,  retired  to  a  seat  beside  his  wife, 
just  behind  old  Margery,  as  soon  as  he  had  conducted 
Jane  to  Garth's  side.  As  Jane  removed  her  hand  from 
his  arm,  she  turned  and  smiled  at  him;  and  a  long  look 
passed  between  them.  All  the  memories,  all  the  compre- 
hension, all  the  trust  and  affection  of  years,  seemed  to 
concentrate  in  that  look;  and  Lady  Brand's  eyes  dropped 
to  her  dainty  white  and  gold  prayer-book.  She  had  never 
known  jealousy;  the  doctor  had  never  given  her  any 
possible  reason  for  acquiring  that  cruel  knowledge.  His 
23 


354  The  Rosary 

Flower  bloomed  for  him;  and  her  fragrance  alone  made 
his  continual  joy.  All  other  lovely  women  were  mere 
botanical  specimens,  to  be  examined  and  classified. 
But  Flower  had  never  quite  understood  the  depth  of 
the  friendship  between  her  husband  and  Jane,  founded 
on  the  associations  and  aspirations  of  childhood  and 
early  youth,  and  a  certain  similarity  of  character  which 
would  not  have  wedded  well,  but  which  worked  out  into 
a  comradeship,  providing  a  source  of  strength  for  both. 
Of  late,  Flower  had  earnestly  tried  to  share,  even  while 
failing  to  comprehend,  it. 

Perhaps  she,  in  her  pale  primrose  gown,  with  daffo- 
dils at  her  waist,  and  sunbeams  in  her  golden  hair, 
was  the  most  truly  bridal  figure  in  the  church.  As 
the  doctor  turned  from  the  bride,  and  sought  his  place 
beside  her  in  the  pew,  he  looked  at  the  sweet  face,  bent 
so  demurely  over  the  prayer-book,  and  thought  he  had 
never  seen  his  wife  look  more  entrancingly  lovely.  Un- 
consciously his  hand  strayed  to  the  white  rosebud  she  had 
fastened  in  his  coat  as  they  strolled  round  the  conserva- 
tory together  that  morning.  Flower,  glancing  up,  sur- 
prised his  look.  She  did  not  think  it  right  to  smile  in 
church ;  but  a  delicate  wave  of  colour  swept  over  her  face, 
and  her  cheek  leaned  as  near  the  doctor's  shoulder,  as  the 
size  of  her  hat  would  allow.  Flower  felt  quite  certain 
that  was  a  look  the  doctor  had  never  given  Jane. 

The  service  commenced.  The  short-sighted  clergy- 
man, very  nervous,  and  rather  overwhelmed  by  the 
unusual  facts  of  a  special  license,  a  blind  bridegroom, 
and  the  reported  presence  of  a  duchess,  began  reading 
very  fast,  in  an  undertone,  which  old  Margery  could 
not  follow,  though  her  finger,  imprisoned  in  unwonted 
kid,  hurried  along  the  lines.  Then  conscious  of  his 
mistake,  he  slowed  down,  and  became  too  impressive; 


(< 


In  the  Face  of  this  Congregation"  355 


making  long  nerve-straining  pauses,  filled  in  by  the 
tinkling  of  the  duchess,  and  the  chinking  in  Dr.  Rob's 
trousers-  pockets . 

Thus  they  arrived  at  the  demand  upon  the  congrega- 
tion, if  they  could  show  any  just  cause  why  these  two 
persons  might  not  lawfully  be  joined  together,  now  to 
speak — and  the  pause  here  was  so  long,  and  so  over- 
powering, that  old  Margery  said  "nay";  and  then  gave 
a  nervous  sob.  The  bridegroom  turned  and  smiled  in  the 
direction  of  the  voice;  and  the  doctor,  leaning  forward, 
laid  his  hand  on  the  trembling  shoulder,  and  whispered: 
"  Steady,  old  friend.    It  is  all  right. " 

There  was  no  pause  whatever  after  the  solemn  charge 
to  the  couple;  so  if  Garth  and  Jane  had  any  secrets 
to  disclose,  they  had  perforce  to  keep  them  for  after 
discussion. 

Then  Jane  found  her  right  hand  firmly  clasped  in 
Garth's;  and  no  inadequacy  of  the  Church's  mouth- 
piece could  destroy  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  Church's 
words,  in  which  Garth  was  asked  if  he  would  take  her 
to  be  his  own. 

To  this,  Garth,  and  old  Margery,  said  they  would; 
with  considerable  display  of  emotion. 

Then  the  all-comprehensive  question  was  put  to  Jane; 
the  Church  seeming  to  remind  her  gently,  that  she  took 
him  in  his  blindness,  with  all  which  that  might  entail. 

Jane  said:  "I  will";  and  the  deep,  tender  voice,  was 
the  voice  of  The  Rosary. 

When  the  words  were  uttered,  Garth  lifted  the  hand 
he  held,  and  reverently  kissed  it. 

This  was  not  in  the  rubric,  and  proved  disconcerting 
to  the  clergyman.  He  threw  up  his  head  suddenly,  and 
inquired:  "Who  giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this 
man?"    And  as,  for  the  moment,  there  was  no  response. 


356  The  Rosary 

he  repeated  the  question  wildly,   gazing  into  distant 
corners  of  the  church. 

Then  the  duchess,  who  up  to  that  time  had  been 
feeling  a  little  bored,  realised  that  her  moment  had 
come,  and  rejoiced.  She  sailed  out  of  her  pew,  and 
advanced  to  the  chancel  step. 

"My  dear  good  man,"  she  said;  "I  give  my  niece 
away;  having  come  north  at  considerable  inconvenience 
for  that  express  purpose.  Now,  go  on.  What  do  we  do 
next?" 

Dr.  Rob  broke  into  an  uncontrollable  chuckle.  The 
duchess  lifted  her  lorgnette,  and  surveyed  him. 

Margery  searched  her  prayer-book  in  vain  for  the 
duchess's  response.    It  did  not  appear  to  be  there. 

Flower  looked  in  distressed  appeal  at  the  doctor. 
But  the  doctor  was  studying,  with  grave  intentness, 
a  stencilled  pattern  on  the  chancel  roof;  and  paid  no 
attention  to  Flower's  nudge. 

The  only  people  completely  unconscious  of  anything 
unusual  in  the  order  of  proceedings  appeared  to  be 
the  bride  and  bridegroom.  They  were  taking  each 
other  "in  the  sight  of  God,  and  in  the  face  of  this  congre- 
gation. "  They  were  altogether  absorbed  in  each  other, 
standing  together  in  the  sight  of  God;  and  the  deport- 
ment of  "this  congregation"  was  a  matter  they  scarcely 
noticed.  "People  always  behave  grotesquely  at  wed- 
dings," Jane  had  said  to  Garth,  beforehand;  "and  ours 
will  be  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  But  we  can  close 
our  eyes,  and  stand  together  in  Sightless  Land;  and 
Deryck  will  take  care  it  is  valid. " 

"Not  in  Sightless  Land,  my  beloved,"  said  Garth; 
"but  in  the  Land  where  they  need  no  candle  neither  light 
of  the  sun.  However,  and  wherever,  I  take  you  as  my 
wife,  I  shall  be  standing  on  the  summit  of  God's  heaven. " 


"In  the  Face  of  this  Congregation"  357 

So  they  stood;  and  in  their  calmness  the  church 
hushed  to  silence.  The  service  proceeded;  and  the 
minister,  who  had  not  known  how  to  keep  them  from 
clasping  hands  when  the  rubric  did  not  require  it,  found 
no  difficulty  in  inducing  them  to  do  so  again. 

So  they  took  each  other — these  two,  who  were  so 
deeply  each  other's  already — solemnly,  reverently,  tend- 
erly, in  the  sight  of  God,  they  took  each  other,  according 
to  God's  holy  ordinance;  and  the  wedding  ring,  type  of 
that  eternal  love  which  has  neither  beginning  nor  ending, 
passed  from  Garth's  pocket,  over  the  Holy  Book,  on  to 
Jane's  finger. 

When  it  was  over,  she  took  his  arm;  and  leaning 
upon  it,  so  that  he  could  feel  she  leaned,  guided  him 
to  the  vestry. 

Afterwards,  in  the  brougham,  for  those  few  precious 
minutes,  when  husband  and  wife  find  themselves  alone 
for  the  first  time,  Garth  turned  to  Jane  with  an  eager 
naturalness,  which  thrilled  her  heart  as  no  studied  speech 
could  have  done.  He  did  not  say:  "My  wife."  That 
unique  moment  had  been  theirs,  three  years  before. 

"Dearest,"  he  said,  "how  soon  will  they  all  go?  How 
soon  shall  we  be  quite  alone?  Oh,  why  couldn't  they 
drive  to  the  station  from  the  church?" 

Jane  looked  at  her  watch.  "Because  we  must  lunch 
them,  dear,"  she  said.  "Think  how  good  they  have  all 
been.  And  we  could  not  start  our  married  life  by  being 
inhospitable.  It  is  just  one  o'clock;  and  we  ordered 
luncheon  at  half-past.  Their  train  leaves  the  station  at 
half-past  four.    In  three  hours,  Garth,  we  shall  be  alone. " 

"Shall  I  be  able  to  behave  nicely  for  three  hours?" 
exclaimed  Garth,  boyishly. 

"You  must,"  said  Jane,  "or  I  shall  fetch  Nurse 
Rosemary." 


358  The  Rosary 

"Oh  hush!"  he  said.  "All  that  is  too  precious, 
to-day,  for  chaff.  Jane" — he  turned  suddenly,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  hers — "Jane!  Do  you  understand  that 
you  are  now — actually — my  wife?" 

Jane  took  his  hand,  and  held  it  against  her  heart, 
just  where  she  so  often  had  pressed  her  own,  when  she 
feared  he  would  hear  it  throbbing. 

"My  darling,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  understand  it, 
But  I  know — ah,  thank  God! — I  know  it  to  be  true." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 


PERPETUAL   LIGHT 


MOONLIGHT  on  the  terrace — silvery,  white,  serene. 
Garth  and  Jane  had  stepped  out  into  the  bright- 
ness; and,  finding  the  night  so  warm  and  still,  and  the 
nightingales  filling  the  woods  and  hills  with  soft-throated 
music,  they  moved  their  usual  fireside  chairs  close  to  the 
parapet,  and  sat  there  in  restful  comfort,  listening  to 
che  sweet  sounds  of  the  quiet  night. 

The  solitude  was  so  perfect;  the  restfulness  so  com- 
plete. Garth  had  removed  the  cushion  seat  from  his 
chair,  and  placed  it  on  the  gravel;  and  sat  at  his  wife's 
feet  leaning  against  her  knees.  She  stroked  his  hair 
and  brow  softly,  as  they  talked;  and  every  now  and 
then  he  put  up  his  hand,  drew  hers  to  his  lips,  and 
kissed  the  ring  he  had  never  seen. 

Long  tender  silences  fell  between  them.  Now  that 
they  were  at  last  alone,  thoughts  too  deep,  joys  too 
sacred  for  words,  trembled  about  them;  and  silence 
seemed  to  express  more  than  speech.  Only,  Garth 
could  not  bear  Jane  to  be  for  a  moment  out  of  reach 
of  his  hand.  What  to  another  would  have  been:  "I 
cannot  let  her  out  of  my  sight,  "  was,  to  him,  "I  cannot 
let  her  be  beyond  my  touch."  And  Jane  fully  under- 
stood this;  and  let  him  feel  her  every  moment  within 
reach.  And  the  bliss  of  this  was  hers  as  well  as  his; 
for  sometimes  it  had  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  hunger 
in  her  heart,  caused  by  those  long  weeks  of  waiting, 
when  her  arms  ached  for  him,  and  yet  she  dared  not 
even  touch  his  hand,  would  never  be  appeased. 

359 


36°  The  Rosary 

"Sweet,  sweet,  sweet — thrill,"  sang  a  nightingale  in 
the  wood.    And  Garth  whistled  an  exact  imitation. 

"Oh,  darling,"  said  Jane,  "that  reminds  me;  there 
is  something  I  do  so  want  you  to  sing  to  me.  I  don't 
know  what  it  is;  but  I  think  you  will  remember.  It 
was  on  that  Monday  evening,  after  I  had  seen  the 
pictures,  and  Nurse  Rosemary  had  described  them  to 
you.  Both  our  poor  hearts  were  on  the  rack;  and  I 
went  up  early  in  order  to  begin  my  letter  of  confession; 
but  you  told  Simpson  not  to  come  for  you  until  eleven. 
While  I  was  writing  in  the  room  above,  I  could  hear 
you  playing  in  the  library.  You  played  many  things 
I  knew — music  we  had  done  together,  long  ago.  And 
then  a  theme  I  had  never  heard  crept  in,  and  caught  my 
ear  at  once,  because  it  was  quite  new  to  me,  and  so  mar- 
vellously sweet.  I  put  down  my  pen  and  listened.  You 
played  it  several  times,  with  slight  variations,  as  if 
trying  to  recall  it.  And  then,  to  my  joy,  you  began  to 
sing.  I  crossed  the  room ;  softly  opened  my  window,  and 
leaned  out.  I  could  hear  some  of  the  words;  but  not  all. 
Two  lines,  however,  reached  me  distinctly,  with  such 
penetrating,  tender  sadness,  that  I  laid  my  head  against 
the  window-frame,  feeling  as  if  I  could  write  no  more,  and 
wait  no  longer,  but  must  go  straight  to  you  at  once. " 

Garth  drew  down  the  dear  hand  which  had  held  the 
pen  that  night ;  turned  it  over,  and  softly  kissed  the  palm. 

"What  were  they,  Jane?"  he  said. 

'  Lead  us,  O  Christ,  wheiTall  is  gone, 
Safe  home  at  last. ' 

And  oh,  my  darling,  the  pathos  of  those  words,  'when 
all  is  gone'!  Whoever  wrote  that  music,  had  been 
through  suffering  such  as  ours.  Then  came  a  theme  of 
such  inspiring  hopefulness  and  joy,  that  I  arose,  armed 


Perpetual  Light  361 

with  fresh  courage ;  took  up  my  pen,  and  went  on  with  my 
letter.    Again  two  lines  had  reached  me : 

"  'Where  Thou,  Eternal  Light  of  Light, 
Art  Lord  of  All. ' 

What  is  it,  Garth?  And  whose?  And  where  did  you 
hear  it?  And  will  you  sing  it  to  me  now,  darling?  I 
have  a  sudden  wish  that  you  should  sing  it,  here  and 
now;  and  I  can't  wait!" 

Garth  sat  up,  and  laughed — a  short  happy  laugh) 
in  which  all  sorts  of  emotions  were  mingled. 

"Jane!  I  like  to  hear  you  say  you  can't  wait.  It 
isn't  like  you;  because  you  are  so  strong  and  patient. 
And  yet  it  is  so  deliciously  like  you,  if  you  feel  it,  to 
say  it.  I  found  the  words  in  the  Anthem- book  at  Wor- 
cester Cathedral,  this  time  last  year,  at  even-song. 
I  copied  them  into  my  pocket-book,  during  the  reading 
of  the  first  lesson,  I  am  ashamed  to  say;  but  it  was  all 
about  what  Balak  said  unto  Balaam,  and  Balaam  said 
unto  Balak, — so  I  hope  I  may  be  forgiven!  They 
seemed  to  me  some  of  the  most  beautiful  words  I  had 
ever  read;  and,  fortunately,  I  committed  them  to  mem- 
ory. Of  course,  I  will  sing  them  to  you,  if  you  wish, 
here  and  now.  But  I  am  afraid  the  air  will  sound  rather 
poor  without  the  accompaniment.  However,  not  for 
worlds  would  I  move  from  here,  at  this  moment." 

So  sitting  up,  in  the  moonlight,  with  his  back  to 
Jane,  his  face  uplifted,  and  his  hands  clasped  around 
one  knee,  Garth  sang.  Much  practice  had  added  greatly 
to  the  sweetness  and  flexibility  of  his  voice;  and  he 
rendered  perfectly  the  exquisite  melody  to  which  the 
words  were  set. 

Jane  listened  with  an  overflowing  heart. 


362  The  Rosary 

"  The  radiant  morn  hath  passed  away, 
And  spent  too  soon  her  golden  store; 
The  shadows  of  departing  day 
■     Creep  on  once  more. 

"  Our  life  is  but  a  fading  dawn, 

Its  glorious  noon,  how  quickly  past! 
Lead  us,  O  Christ,  when  all  is  gone, 
Safe  home  at  last. 

"Where  saints  are  clothed  in  spotless  white, 
And  evening  shadows  never  fall; 
Where  Thou,  Eternal  Light  of  Light, 
Art  Lord  of  All." 

The  triumphant  worship  of  the  last  line  rang  out 
into  the  night,  and  died  away.  Garth  loosed  his  hands, 
and  leaned  back,  with  a  sigh  of  vast  content,  against  his 
wife's  knees. 

"Beautiful! "she said.  "Beautiful!  Garthie — perhaps 
it  is  because  you  sang  it ;  and  to-night ; — but  it  seems  to 
me  the  most  beautiful  thing  I  ever  heard.  Ah,  and  how 
appropriate  for  us;  on  this  day,  of  all  days. " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Garth,  stretching  his  legs  in 
front  of  him,  and  crossing  his  feet  the  one  over  the  other. 
"I  certainly  feel  'Safe  home  at  last' — not  because  'all 
is  gone';  but  because  I  have  all,  in  having  you,  Jane." 

Jane  bent,  and  laid  her  cheek  upon  his  head.  "My 
own  boy,"  she  said,  "you  have  all  I  have  to  give — - 
all,  all.  But,  darling,  in  those  dark  days  which  are 
past,  all  seemed  gone,  for  us  both.  '  Lead  us,  O  Christ ' — 
It  was  He  who  led  us  safely  through  the  darkness,  and 
has  brought  us  to  this.  And  Garth,  I  love  to  know  that 
He  is  Lord  of  All — Lord  of  our  joy;  Lord  of  our  love; 
Lord  of  our  lives — our  wedded  lives,  my  husband.  We 
could  not  be  so  safely,  so  blissfully,  each  other's,  were  we 
not  one,  in  Kim.    Is  this  true  for  you  also,  Garth?" 


Perpetual  Light  363 

Garth  felt  for  her  left  hand,  drew  it  down,  and  laid 
his  cheek  against  it;  then  gently  twisted  the  wedding 
ring  that  he  might  kiss  it  all  round. 

"Yes,  my  wife,"  he  said.  "I  thank  God,  that  I 
can  say  in  all  things:  'Thou,  Eternal  Light  of  Light, 
art  Lord  of  All.'  " 

A  long  sweet  silence.  Then  Jane  said,  suddenly: 
"Oh,  but  the  music,  Garthie!  That  exquisite  setting. 
Whose  is  it?    And  where  did  you  hear  it?" 

Garth  laughed  again;  a  laugh  of  half-shy  pleasure. 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it,  Jane,"  he  said,  "because  I 
must  plead  guilty  to  the  fact  that  it  is  my  own.  You 
see,  I  knew  no  music  for  it;  the  Anthem-book  gave  the 
words  only.  And  on  that  awful  night,  when  little 
Rosemary  had  mercilessly  rubbed  it  in,  about  'the 
lady  portrayed';  and  what  her  love  must  have  been, 
and  would  have  been,  and  could  have  been;  and  had 
made  me  see  'The  Wife'  again,  and  'The — '  the  other 
picture;  I  felt  so  bruised,  and  sore,  and  lonely.  And 
then  those  words  came  to  my  mind:  'Lead  us,  O  Christ, 
when  all  is  gone,  safe  home  at  last.'  All  seemed  gone, 
indeed;  and  there  seemed  no  home  to  hope  for,  in  this 
world."  He  raised  himself  a  little,  and  then  leaned 
back  again;  so  that  his  head  rested  against  her  bosom. 
"Safe  home  at  last,"  he  said,  and  stayed  quite  still  for 
a  moment,  in  utter  content.  Then  remembered  what 
he  was  telling  her,  and  went  on  eagerly. 

"So  those  words  came  back  to  me;  and  to  get  away 
from  despairing  thoughts,  I  began  reciting  them,  to 
an  accompaniment  of  chords. 

"'The  radiant  morn  hath  passed  away, 
And  spent  too  soon  her  golden  store; 
The  shadows  of  departing  day ' 


364  The  Rosary 

And  then — suddenly,  Jane — I  saw  it,  pictured  in  sound  £ 
Just  as  I  used  to  see  a  sunset,  in  light  and  shadow,  and 
then  transfer  it  to  my  canvas  in  shade  and  colour, — so  I 
heard  a  sunset  in  harmony,  and  I  felt  the  same  kind  of 
tingle  in  my  fingers  as  I  used  to  feel  when  inspiration 
came,  and  I  could  catch  up  my  brushes  and  palette.  So 
I  played  the  sunset.  And  then  I  got  the  theme  for  life 
fading,  and  what  one  feels  when  the  glorious  noon  is 
suddenly  plunged  into  darkness;  and  then  the  prayer. 
And  then,  I  heard  a  vision  of  heaven,  where  evening 
shadows  never  fall.  And  after  that  came  the  end;  just 
certainty,  and  worship,  and  peace.  You  see  the  eventual 
theme,  worked  out  of  all  this.  It  was  like  making  studies 
for  a  picture.  That  was  why  you  heard  it  over  and  over. 
I  wasn't  trying  to  remember.  I  was  gathering  it  into 
final  form.  I  am  awfully  glad  you  like  it,  Jane;  because 
if  I  show  you  how  the  harmonies  go,  perhaps  you  could 
write  it  down.  And  it  would  mean  such  a  lot  to  me,  if 
you  thought  it  worth  singing.  I  could  play  the  accom- 
paniment—  Hullo!  Is  it  beginning  to  rain?  I  felt  a 
drop  on  my  cheek,  and  another  on  my  hand." 

No  answer.  Then  he  felt  the  heave,  with  which  Jane 
caught  her  breath ;  and  realised  that  she  was  weeping. 

In  a  moment  he  was  on  his  knees  in  front  of  her. 

"Jane!  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Sweet?  What  on 
earth — ?  Have  I  said  anything  to  trouble  you?  Jane, 
what  is  it?    O  God,  why  can't  I  see  her!" 

Jane  mastered  her  emotion;  controlling  her  voice, 
with  an  immense  effort.  Then  drew  him  down  beside 
her. 

"Hush,  darling,  hush!  It  is  only  a  great  joy — a 
wonderful  surprise.  Lean  against  me  again,  and  I  will 
try  to  tell  you.  Do  you  know  that  you  have  composed 
some  of  the  most  beautiful  music  in  the  world?    Do  you 


Perpetual  Light  365 


know,  my  own  boy,  that  not  only  your  proud  and  happy 
wife,  but  all  women  who  can  sing,  will  want  to  sing  your 
music?  Garthie,  do  you  realise  what  it  means?  The 
creative  faculty  is  so  strong  in  you,  that  when  one  outlet 
was  denied  it,  it  burst  forth  through  another.  When  you 
had  your  sight,  you  created  by  the  hand  and  eye.  Now, 
you  will  create  by  the  hand  and  ear.  The  power  is  the 
same.  It  merely  works  through  another  channel.  But 
oh,  think  what  it  means!  Think!  The  world  lies  before 
you  once  more!" 

Garth  laughed,  and  put  up  his  hand  to  the  dear  face, 
still  wet  with  thankful  tears. 

"Oh,  bother  the  world!"  he  said.  "I  don't  want  the 
world.     I  only  want  my  wife." 

Jane  put  her  arms  around  him.  Ah,  what  a  boy 
he  was  in  some  ways!  How  full  of  light-hearted,  irre- 
pressible, essential  youth.  Just  then  she  felt  so  much 
older  than  he;  but  how  little  that  mattered.  The 
better  could  she  wrap  him  round  with  the  great- 
ness of  her  tenderness;  shield  him  from  every  jar  or 
disillusion;  and  help  him  to  make  the  most  of  his  great 
gifts. 

"I  know,  darling,"  she  said.  "And  you  have  her. 
She  is  just  all  yours.  But  think  of  the  wonderful  future. 
Thank  God,  I  know  enough  of  the  technical  part,  to 
write  the  scores  of  your  compositions.  And,  Garth, — 
fancy  going  together  to  noble  cathedrals,  and  hearing 
your  anthems  sung;  and  to  concerts  where  the  most 
perfect  voices  in  the  world  will  be  doing  their  utmost 
adequately  to  render  your  songs.  Fancy  thrilling  hearts 
with  pure  harmony,  stirring  souls  with  tone-pictures; 
just  as  before  you  used  to  awaken  in  us  all,  by  your 
wonderful  paintings,  an  appreciation  and  comprehension 
of  beauty." 


366  The  Rosary 

J  Garth  raised  his  head.     "Is  it  really  as  good  as  that5 
Jane?"  he  said. 

"Dear,"  answered  Jane,  earnestly,  "I  can  only  tell 
you,  that  when  you  sang  it  first,  and  I  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  it  was  yours,  I  said  to  myself:  'It  is  the 
most  beautiful  thing  I  ever  heard.'  " 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Garth,  simply.  "And  now,  let's 
talk  of  something  else.  Oh,  I  say,  Jane!  The  present 
is  too  wonderful,  to  leave  any  possible  room  for  thoughts 
about  the  future.    Do  talk  about  the  present." 

Jane  smiled;  and  it  was  the  smile  of  "The  Wife" — 
mysterious;  compassionate;  tender;  self-surrendering. 
She  leaned  over  him,  and  rested  her  cheek  upon  his 
head. 

"Yes,  darling.  We  will  talk  of  this  very  moment,  if 
you  wish.    You  begin. " 

"Look  at  the  house,  and  describe  it  to  me,  as  you 
see  it  in  the  moonlight. " 

"Very  grey,  and  calm,  and  restful-looking.  And  so 
home-like,  Garthie." 

"Are  there  lights  in  the  windows?" 
"Yes.  The  library  lights  are  just  as  we  left  them. 
The  French  window  is  standing  wide  open.  The  pedestal 
lamp,  under  a  crimson  silk  shade,  looks  very  pretty  from 
here,  shedding  a  warm  glow  over  the  interior.  Then,  I 
can  see  one  candle  in  the  dining-room.  I  think  Simpson 
is  putting  away  silver. " 
"Any  others,  Jane?" 

"Yes,  darling.  There  is  a  light  in  the  Oriel  chamber. 
I  can  see  Margery  moving  to  and  fro.  She  seems  to 
be  arranging  my  things,  and  giving  final  touches.  There 
is  also  a  light  in  your  room,  next  door.  Ah,  now  she  has 
gone  through.  I  see  her  standing  and  looking  round 
to  make  sure  all  is  right.      Dear  faithful  old  heart! 


Perpetual  Light  367 

Garth,  how  sweet  it  is  to  be  at  home  to-day;  served  and 
tended  by  those  who  really  love  us. " 

"I  am  so  glad  you  feel  that,"  said  Garth.  "I  half 
feared  you  might  regret  not  having  an  ordinary  honey- 
moon—  And  yet,  no!  I  wasn't  really  afraid  of  that,  or 
of  anything.  Just,  together  at  last,  was  all  we  wanted. 
Wasn't  it,  my  wife?" 

"All." 

A  clock  in  the  house  struck  nine. 

"Dear  old  clock,"  said  Garth,  softly.  "I  used  to 
hear  it  strike  nine,  when  I  was  a  little  chap  in  my  crib, 
trying  to  keep  awake  until  my  mother  rustled  past,  and 
went  into  her  room.  The  door  between  her  room  and 
mine  used  to  stand  ajar,  and  I  could  see  her  candle 
appear  in  a  long  streak  upon  my  ceiling.  When  I  saw 
that  streak,  I  fell  asleep  immediately.  It  was  such  a 
comfort  to  know  she  was  there;  and  would  not  go  down 
again.    Jane,  do  you  like  the  Oriel  chamber?" 

"Yes,  dear.  It  is  a  lovely  room;  and  very  sacred 
because  it  was  hers.  Do  you  know,  Aunt  Georgina 
insisted  upon  seeing  it,  Garth;  and  said  it  ought  to  be 
whitened  and  papered.  But  I  would  not  hear  of  that; 
because  the  beautiful  old  ceiling  is  hand-painted,  and 
so  are  the  walls;  and  I  was  certain  you  had  loved  those 
paintings,  as  a  little  boy;  and  would  remember  them 
now." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Garth,  eagerly.  "A  French  artist 
stayed  here,  and  did  them.  Water  and  rushes,  and 
the  most  lovely  flamingoes;  those  on  the  walls  standing 
with  their  feet  in  the  water;  and  those  on  the  ceiling, 
flying  with  wings  outspread,  into  a  pale  green  sky,  all  over 
white  billowy  clouds.  Jane,  I  believe  I  could  walk  round 
that  room,  blindfold — no!  I  mean,  as  I  am  now;  and 
point  out  the  exact  spot  where  each  flamingo  stands. " 


368  The  Rosary 

"You  shall,"  said  Jane,  tenderly.  These  slips  when 
he  talked,  momentarily  forgetting  his  blindness,  always 
wrung  her  heart.  "By  degrees  you  must  tell  me  all  the 
things  you  specially  did  and  loved,  as  a  little  boy.  I  like 
to  know  them.  Had  you  always  that  room,  next  door 
to  your  mother's?" 

"Ever  since  I  can  remember,"  said  Garth.  "And 
the  door  between  was  always  open.  After  my  mother's 
death,  I  kept  it  locked.  But  the  night  before  my  birth- 
day, I  used  to  open  it ;  and  when  I  woke  early  and  saw  it 
ajar,  I  would  spring  up,  and  go  quickly  in;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  her  dear  presence  was  there  to  greet  me,  just  on  that 
one  morning.  But  I  had  to  go  quickly,  and  immediately 
I  wakened;  just  as  you  must  go  out  early  to  catch  the 
rosy  glow  of  sunrise  on  the  fleeting  clouds;  or  to  see 
the  gossamer  webs  on  the  gorse,  outlined  in  diamonds, 
by  the  sparkling  summer  dew.  But,  somehow,  Margery 
found  out  about  it;  and  the  third  year  there  was  a 
sheet  of  writing-paper  firmly  stuck  to  the  pin-cush- 
ion by  a  large  black-headed  pin,  saying,  in  Margery's 
careful  caligraphy:  'Many  happy  returns  of  the  day, 
Master  Garthie.'  It  was  very  touching,  because  it 
was  meant  to  be  so  comforting  and  tactful.  But  it 
destroyed  the  illusion!  Since  then  the  door  has  been 
kept  closed." 

Another  long  sweet  silence.  Two  nightingales,  in 
distant  trees,  sang  alternately;  answering  one  another 
in  liquid  streams  of  melody. 

Again  Garth  turned  the  wedding  ring;  then  spoke, 
with  his  lips  against  it. 

"You  said  Margery  had  'gone  through.'  Is  it  open 
to-night?"  he  asked. 

Jane  clasped  both  hands  behind  his  head — strong, 
capable  hands,   though  now  they  trembled  a  little — 


Perpetual  Light  369 

and  pressed  his  face  against  her,  as  she  had  done  on  the 
terrace  at  Shenstone,  three  years  before. 

"Yes,  my  own  boy,"  she  said;  "it  is." 

"Jane!  Oh,  Jane — "  He  released  himself  from  the 
pressure  of  those  restraining  hands,  and  lifted  his  adoring 
face  to  hers. 

Then,  suddenly,  Jane  broke  down.  "Ah,  darling," 
she  said,  "take  me  away  from  this  horrible  white  moon- 
light! I  cannot  bear  it.  It  reminds  me  of  Shenstone. 
It  reminds  me  of  the  wrong  I  did  you.  It  seems  a 
separating  thing  between  you  and  me — this  cruel 
brightness  which  you  cannot  share." 

Her  tears  fell  on  his  upturned  face. 

Then  Garth  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  sense  of  man- 
hood and  mastery;  the  right  of  control,  the  joy  of  posses- 
sion, arose  within  him.  Even  in  his  blindness,  he  was  the 
stronger.  Even  in  his  helplessness, — for  the  great 
essentials,  Jane  must  lean  on  him.  He  raised  her  gently, 
put  his  arms  about  her,  and  stood  there,  glorified  by  his 
great  love. 

"Hush,  sweetest  wife,"  he  said.  "Neither  light  nor 
darkness  can  separate  between  you  and  me.  This  quiet 
moonlight  cannot  take  you  from  me;  but  in  the  still, 
sweet  darkness  you  will  feel  more  completely  my  own, 
because  it  will  hold  nothing  we  cannot  share.  Come 
with  me  to  the  library,  and  we  will  send  away  the 
lamps,  and  close  the  curtains;  and  you  shall  sit  on  the 
couch  near  the  piano,  where  you  sat,  on  that  wonderful 
evening  when  I  found  you,  and  when  I  almost  frightened 
my  brave  Jane.  But  she  will  not.  be  frightened  now, 
because  she  is  so  my  own;  and  I  may  say  what  I  like; 
and  do  what  I  will;  and  she  must  not  threaten  me  with 
Nurse  Rosemary ;  because  it  is  Jane  I  want — Jane,  Jane ; 
just  only  Jane!  Come  in,  beloved;  and  I,  who  see  as 
24 


370  The  Rosary 

clearly  in  the  dark  as  in  the  light,  will  sit  and  play  The 
Rosary  for  you ;  and  then  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus;  and  I 
will  sing  you  the  verse  which  has  been  the  secret  source 
of  peace,  and  the  sustaining  power  of  my  whole  inner 
life,  through  the  long,  hard  years,  apart. " 
"  Now, "  whispered  Jane.  "  Now,  as  we  go. " 
So  Garth  drew  her  hand  through  his  arm;  and,  as 
they  walked,  sang  softly: 

"Enable  with  perpetual  light, 
The  dulness  of  our  blinded  sight; 
Anoint  and  cheer  our  soiled  face 
With  the  abundance  of  Thy  grace. 
Keep  far  our  foes;  give  peace  at  home; 
Where  Thou  art  Guide,  no  ill  can  come. " 

Thus,  leaning  on  her  husband;  yet  guiding  him,  as 
she  leaned;  Jane  passed  to  the  perfect  happiness  of  her 
wedded  home. 


THE  END 


After  reading  THE  ROSARY  you  will  surely 
want  to  read  the  delightful  companion  story. 


<§J?  ggnSBffCgKSB 

FLORENCE  L. BARCLAY 


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THE 

MISTRESS 

OF 

SHENSTONE 

By  Florence  L.  Barclay 

In  this  delightful  love  story,  a  worthy 
successor  of  THE  ROSARY,  in  which 
Mrs.  Garth  Dalmain  again  appears,  we 
follow  the  fortunes  of  the  young  and  lovely 
Lady  Ingleby,  recently  widowed  by  the  death 
of  a  husband  who  was  never  capable  of  really 
understanding  her.  While  rusticating  incog. 
in  the  country,  she  meets  her  heart's  delight 
under  the  simple  and  classic  name  of  "Jim" 
— in  reality  an  Earl — and  these  two  proceed 
to  fall  deeply  and  rapturously  in  love  with  each 
other.  When  he  learns  her  identity,  a  situation 
of  singular  power  and  fascination  is  developed, 
which  Mrs.  Barclay  handles  in  a  masterly 
manner.  A  most  absorbing  and  unusual  story. 

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MYRTLE    REED'S   NOVEL! 


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LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE. 


A  charming  story  of  a  quaint  corner  of 
New  England  where  bygone  romance  finds  a 
modern  parallel.  The  story  centers  round 
the  coming  of  love  to  the  young  people  on 
the  staff  of  a  newspaper— and  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  quaintest  of  old  fash- 
ioned love  stories,  *  *  *  a  rare  book,  ex- 
quisite in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful 
humor  and  spontaniety. 


A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN. 

Miss  Myrtle  Reed  may  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  a  story 
in  which  poetry,  charm,  tenderness  and  humor  are  combined  into  a 
clever  and  entertaining  book.  Her  characters  are  delightful  and  she 
always  displays  a  quaint  humor  of  expression  and  a  quiet  feeling  of 
pathos  which  give  a  touch  of  active  realism  to  all  her  writings.  In 
"A  Spinner  in  the  Sun"  she  tells  an  old-fashioned  love  story,  of  a 
veiled  lady  who  lives  in  solitude  and  whose  features  her  neighbors 
have  never  seen.  There  is  a  mystery  at  the  heart  of  the  book  that 
throws  over  it  the  glamour  of  romance, 

THE    MASTER'S    VIOLIN, 

A  love  story  in  a  musical  atmosphere.  A  picturesques  old  Ger- 
man virtuoso  is  the  reverent  possessor  of  a  genuine  "Cremona."  He 
consents  to  take  for  his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who  proves  to  have 
an  aptitude  for  technique,  but  not  the  soul  of  an  artist.  The  youth 
has  led  the  happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern,  well-to-do  young  Amer- 
ican and  he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past,  express  the  love,  the  passion 
and  the  tragedies  of  life  and  all  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master 
Who  has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into  his  life — a 
beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that  his  aunt  had  taken  into  her 
heart  and  home,  and  through  his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns 
the  lessons  that  life  has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakes. 

Founded  on  a  fact  that  all  artists  realize. 

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STORIES    OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 


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THE  HARVESTER 

Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  draws 
his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  with 
his  sure  grip  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knowledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  to  him  —  there  begins  a  romance, 
troubled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST. 

Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  by 
Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
Indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificing  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathos 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 


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JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

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THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME   PINE. 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 


The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-firi7its  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE    LITTLE    SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM    COME 

Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND. 

Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  feudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon- 
shiner's son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris- 
tened "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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